In Black Blood
by AliceCullen117
Summary: -REDONE sequel to In Good Blood- This is not a life, this is not even existance. What we are should not be. If I loved you truely, truely loved you, I would never bring this...lunacy upon you.
1. Chapter One

Okay, so I was hugely inspired by someone who commented on the first draft of this, and I had to redo this story for them, from a different perspective, new character and just entirely all over again. So, tell me if maybe this is any better than the first draft or not.

**And just so there isn't any confusion I would HIGHLY suggest that anyone who hasn't read "In Good Blood" do so, because I'm going to make refrences between the novels and I really don't wanna frustrate anyone with, like Analeigh's nicknames or anything. Okay, sorry bout that, hope ya like the chapter!!**

~Selene

* * *

Chapter 1

I felt like I could jump out the window and just fly away. I'd almost done it once, actually jumped, almost broke my nose. I was high. Drugs always made me feel like I could do anything.

Instead stood on the edge of the windowsill outside my bedroom, letting the night air nibble at my exposed skin. My fingers numbly clutched the shingles above me, and I stretched my foot out into the cold night.

Wind blew layered blonde wisps into my face; they stuck to my Polysporin lip chap. I leaned away from the window, screaming when someone grabbed my waist.

I was still kicking and shrieking when my Father dropped me on my bed, slamming my window shut and shouting something unintelligible. A gurgling laugh came to my lips. His voice was high, like he'd been sucking on a helium balloon, and his skin was green and wavy.

"Sawyer Quinzelle Cohen…." I let my head hang off the edge of my double bed, staring at the floor as it spun round in circles, flashing a thousand colours at once.

I closed my eyes, feeling myself fall through my bed, through the floor and into the kitchen below where my Mother was listening to the Beetles and stringing glass beads on some thread.

When I awoke the next morning, it was to a pile of bags, I'd really done myself in now. My drawers were strewn across the floor, my red thong hanging over the edge of one, I sneered.

I climbed up from the floor, regarding the empty bag that once held marijuana resting on the side of my bed a moment. I ran my fingers through my hair, taking a deep breath and walking from my room.

Mom and Dad were talking when I came into our big kitchen, they both looked at each other gravely before raking their eyes over me.

"Sawyer, you know your condition." Mom began her long brown-gold hair curtain-like, and draping over her shoulders. She wore a braided headband around her head like a circlet, the colour of a rainbow.

Mom was in denial that the 60's and 70's had passed.

My condition, I thought. Haemophilia, a disorder that disables the body's ability to control coagulation or blood clotting. In other words, I get a paper cut I'm gonna bleed to death. Pretty wicked right?

My great, great grandpa had it, it's hereditary. Funny thing is, it's most common in males, it happens to like, 1 in 5,000 to 10,000 male births. Ya know, 'cause they only have one X chromosome or something. And that's only haemophilia A.

Girls have two X chromosomes, but I still got it. Isn't that just a stroke of luck?

So my Dad, big awesome brain surgeon Dad, is like super finicky about letting me do anything. But Mom, well she's too far back in the past to really concern herself with her kid's issues, so she just lets me do what I want.

"Sawyer, I think…" She looked at my Father who was rubbing his face down with a white handkerchief. She looked stressed, if I didn't know better I'd actually say she was worried about something.

Oh, balls. They're gonna send me to boot camp. I stiffened, quickly searching for any excuse I could wrap my head around. My tongue flailed behind my lips, what would I do at boot camp? I'd be put in like, a cage or something.

I…kind of have problems with authority. Okay, no big deal, I just don't like people telling me what to do, that's normal for a fourteen-year-old right? Mutiny and spray paint, crap like that.

It was the reason Dad never took me to any of his fancy get-togethers or Christmas parties for work. "Wow Nathan," His friends would say, "You're daughter is quite….wow. Nothing like you at all."

That's right, they couldn't even form words to describe me. Dad never said I'm an embarrassment, I know, he loves me and all – it's kind of his job, but still, I know.

"Sawyer you're going to spend some time with your cousins." Dad spoke for my Mother, his voice was distant but firm, determined. I shrugged my shoulders, anything was better than boot camp.

My cousins were snobs. There's Olivia, the princess of all that is evil, Jasmine the drama queen, and Dawson, now he wasn't as bad as his sisters but he's the most girlish boy I have ever met.

The last time I had to spend a weekend there my Aunt Charity, spent like four hours making sure I had no matches or pointy objects, that I could possibly use for a hostile takeover. And My Uncle – who really isn't the father of Charity's children – went haywire when I put my feet on the coffee table.

It was like I had desecrated their place of worshiping.

"For what, like a couple days?" I scratched my head, trudging through the kitchen to the fridge, opening the milk carton and knocking it back.

"No, no." My Dad was shaking his head, "Maybe a few months. Now, the next flight to Sighisoara leaves tomorrow at one-"

I spat up, coughing backwash into the carton, milk was coming out of my nose. My Father sighed moving about before dabbing a washcloth over my face, it smelt of vanilla soap and dirty dishes and I grimaced.

"Sighisowhata?" I snapped, Aunt Charity and Uncle Bryan lived like three hours away. It hit me then, I wasn't going to see my Mom's half of the family.

"Daddy!" I moaned, "Please, please, please don't make me go there!"

He was talking about his family, my Uncle Nick and Aunt Kristine.

"There are vampires there!" I screamed, clamping my hands on his shoulders and giving him a hard shake. My Dad laughed, steadying himself and patting my hair.

"That's just an old tourist story, Sawyer. And we already bought your ticket so you're going." He was smiling, but his voice was smooth and level. Dad's hazel eyes were blazing.

I am so doomed.


	2. Chapter Two

It was cold and raining. The clouds churned and growled above me, roaring out echoing thunder and sending bright, twisted claps of lightening down.

I scowled, this was going to be an awesome six months. Not to mention I was arriving right in the middle of semester at some dumb Transylvanian school.

A massive beige jeep met me at the small airport, my aunt Kristine practically jumping on me. She was a pretty woman with short, silky blonde hair and lovely high cheek bones, and a smile so big and warm I wanted to melt.

"Oh, Sawyer!" She cried, smothering me with her arms. "I haven't seen you since you were this big!" She released me to level her hand somewhere around her hips.

And she ruined it. I forced a smile and nodded, "Kristine." Then I saw my uncle, my cousins. They all looked the same, blond – except for one – and awkwardly tall, like they were bred from Sasquatch.

Uncle, Nick, looked a hell lot like my Dad, with the same laugh lines and great hazel eyes. His hair was shaggier than Dad's though, Dad's was always refined and even. He enveloped me in a great hug and I was welcomed by the scents of home, warmth and comfort.

I'd never felt that before, and it was invigorating. "You remember Kellen, Gavril and Stellar." He said pointing to each of them.

Stellar was the black-haired one who wore nail polish, he didn't even see me, too busy texting on his phone to notice. Every time his phone would chime his brown-green eyes would light up and he'd smile, I caught a glimpse of his retainer.

Kellen was the oldest, who seemed like he'd spent more time in body-building contests than fighting off vampires. He looked like a surfer with his lengthy golden hair, intense green-brown eyes and, smooth dimples.

Kellen reminded me of this dude my friend Micha dated – he was a total player, ended up fooling around with her older sister Myra. Anyways, that's the feeling I got from him, definite womanizer.

Lastly, there was Gavril, who appeared worried about something. His gangly arms crossed over his chest, he fidgeted restlessly, hazel eyes flickering uneasily.

Gavril was all legs and elbows, and his shaggy, sandy hair fell close to his earlobes like Kellen's, his sun kissed face was adorned with light freckles.

I gave them each a last once-over and shrugged, Stellar and Kellen looked more alike, but there was something about Gavril and Kellen that made me think that they had more in common as brothers.

"Sup?" My lip popped on the P and I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet. Kellen's eyes narrowed a fraction then he gave me a crooked grin that mirrored his Mother's.

I grunted when he came to wrap his massive arms around me, he smelt of soap and very, very nice cologne. "Welcome to Transylvania 'cuz."

He didn't have an accent like his Mother, he had an American accent like me and uncle Nick. It took me a moment to remember all that dad had told me in the car when he'd dropped me off to catch my plane.

••

"Honey did you remember your medication?" Dad asked, driving on the highway always made him tense and he spoke rather choppily.

I was listening to Nirvana on my ipod, and was irritated that he wanted to talk to me. Nodding I backed my seat up and plopped my feet atop the dashboard.

"Now, I just want you to be aware that you can't be doing this-" he smacked my feet and pushed them off the dash "-at Nick's house, and please Sawyer, no more drugs, no more alcohol and please, _please _don't get yourself arrested again. You know I can't come rescue you in Transylvania."

I rolled my eyes, folding my arms across my chest and leaning against the cold window, staring at the van opposite us.

A Mother and her son were singing goofily and laughing, idiots. She'd probably feel like a total douche bag if she got herself wrapped around another car because of that.

"And Sawyer, try to be nice, especially to Kristine." He sounded as if he was having second thoughts about sending me away. I hoped he'd get too afraid of me disgracing the family and turn the car around.

He patted my arm, smiling hopefully at me, running his fingers through my long hair. "You know after Nick and Delia got a divorce and Kristine moved back here to have Kellen, Stellar and Gavril, it was really hard on her to be away from Transylvania."

I snorted, so she's a fan of the bloodsuckers? Awesome!

"I want you to be good to her, she is inviting you into her home and she's never really thought we forgave her for taking their whole family out there. She's really wonderful and-"

"Jesus, why don't _you_ marry her if she's so fantastic?" I interjected, plugging my ear buds back in and cranking the music so I couldn't hear Dad anymore.

••

"What're we standing around here for?" Uncle Nick smiled hugely, "Let's get ya home."

The drive was awful. I'd never been so cramped for space in my life. And to make matters worse, I'd just met my cousins for the first time and had to sit on Gavril's lap because every other seat was taken.

Man, I was going to raise some serious hell when I got home.

My room in the Cohen household was teeny, a guest room nonetheless, but it was full of dusty boxes piled up on each other and stunk of stale air.

The forest green bedding was itchy and the mattress was too soft. I hardly got any sleep at all, and with the garlic ring I'd packed secretly around my neck I got a huge migraine.

Kristine was a nurse, and she'd thoroughly gone over the note my Dad had tucked away for her. She had my medication in a neat row on the cheap countertop in the kitchen, all in alphabetical order.

What was she gonna do if I started bleeding? Frigging call out the alphabet and let me decide which drug I wanted? I couldn't wait until I got my next episode of "bleeds", she'd probably have a heart attack.

The second day I was laying in bed, listening to my ipod when Gavril came in, looking completely out of place. I scowled at him, hoping he would magically disappear if I focused hard enough.

"What's going on?" He asked, biting his lip and tearing his fingers through his sandy hair. I shrugged, narrowing my eyes on him.

"I'm contemplating how I'm going to commit suicide." I hissed, "Do you want something?"

He looked astonished for a moment, blinking hard and working to suck in an even, relaxed breath. He clenched his teeth a moment, "So, did you know the first copies of Tom Sawyer were first published in, like, 1876 and it was Mark Twain's most famous novel?"

I laughed, "You have got to be kidding me."

Gavril shrugged his narrow shoulders and I sat up, leaning back against the head board, motioning for him to sit. He looked relieved, almost as if I had had a gun pointed to his head and decided not to pull the trigger.

"So are you like, trying to make nice-nice with me?" I cocked a brow at him, shuffling in the uncomfortable duvet. Gavril suffered from a serious lack of grace and I couldn't help but snicker when he stumbled, walking over to join me.

"You're not making it very easy." He confessed with a sigh, he was very pretty, I decided. Not like dateable pretty, but like cute and lanky pretty.

"Are there really vampires here?" I questioned, leaning forward. Gavril looked hurt, as if I'd slapped him or made a very offensive comment.

He shook his head slowly, robotically. Gavril's hair swayed in the motion, his eyes were full of sorrow, and it made me want to smack him for real.

"We-we…they're Undying, not vampires. Vampires are like the diet Pepsi of Undying, and yes we do. They live in Castle Dracula, far out of town, they only come here to-" He took a moment to draw in a shuddering breath "-to feed, drink blood – however you wanna put it."

"No shit." I smirked, "That totally blows man, well, now I know how I'm gonna go out anyways. Does it hurt getting bit by a vampire?" I tucked my hands behind my head, trying to decide whether or not I liked Gavril.

He chuckled humourlessly, staring me deep in the eyes, loss and nostalgia painting his features. "Not even a little bit." Gavril tilted his head, becoming distant as if he wasn't even speaking to me anymore. "It's actually the best thing you could ever feel."

"Sick, I gatta try it then." If this was better than weed, I was definitely gonna try and get myself bitten. Wouldn't that freak my Dad out, the moron, thought it was a tourist story – ha!

"I should introduce you to Analeigh, she'd _love_ to have somebody to talk to about the world of the walking dead." Gavril's tone had gone from emotionless machine to furious and snappy in an eighth of a second.

"Is that your girlfriend?" I asked quietly, picking at my purple nail polish. When Gavril burst out laughing I'd thought maybe he'd set me up to fall for some dumb prank. I was about to punch him when he went on.

"No…" He looked miserable, and I could tell just by the look in his eye he was crazy about this girl, Analeigh. "She's um, she's engaged to an Undying, Dorian, The Devil Himself-"

"This guy sounds badass." I interrupted, repeating The Devil Himself over and over in my head, what a sick nickname. And his name was Dorian? Hmmm, _Dorian_. That's so hot.

Gavril was quiet for a long while, I considered telling him to go away, but something about his expression made me change my mind. He looked lost, lost between hell and earth, constantly falling in and out of the two worlds.

"She's my best friend. A few months ago she…" He swallowed loudly, his Adam's apple jerking up. "She got pr-pregnant with his kid and…well, she kind of…she's a vampire now."

My eyes were bugging, they were so wide it actually hurt. "Don't you like, like her?" Gavril nodded sharply, closing his eyes. "So, do you see her and stuff still, does she like come and bite you and junk?"

Gavril cleared his throat and when he spoke his voice shattered through an octave, it made me chuckle. "She comes here all the time at night." He answered in a whisper. "Red only bit me once – by accident – she just looked really, really tired and sick and she kind of lost it."

I was too fascinated to make a snarky remark. "What was it like?" My voice was dreamy, he was totally head over heels for this vampire chick, I was excited to meet her. Maybe she'd bite me.

"Um," Gavril's face went beet red and he gave a kind of embarrassed titter. "It was…don't laugh, orgasmic?"

Of course, I laughed. My eyes watered reflexively, this was going to be so awesome, so I get off on a vampire bite and bleed to death, try putting that on a gravestone.

So Gavril filled me on the do's and don'ts of Transylvanian high school life:

Garlic actually doesn't hurt The Undying, and people will laugh at you if you wear it.

Beware of some chick named Eliani – she sounded like the preppy snob named Beca I went to school with back home.

Bleachers are the best spot to hide when skipping class, although the bathroom works sometimes too.

Avoid the Jocks at all cost – most only wanted in your pants.

Wooden stakes are okay to have in your bag, but don't be fooling around with one in the hall, teachers totally freaked out when that happened.

Taco Tuesday in the cafeteria was a no-no.

The teachers were alright, as long as you paid attention, handed work in on time and were quiet they usually didn't embarrass you in class, with some impossible question to answer on the board.

The school was super competitive, so sports were avoided unless you were like, amazing.

If anyone starts screaming and scattering, it's probably best to run and not stick around to see what happens. Usually people were really mellow unless The Undying were around.

And the most important rule of all? Do not mention Analeigh Andréa being a vampire, actually, I was just told not even to bring up the word vampire in the same sentence and Analeigh Andréa.

Nothing too serious, right?

So, Gavril was like, super nice for the most part which was…awkward. Minus the fact he wouldn't shut up about weird crap that I didn't care about like, that the earth was the third planet from the sun, at a distance of something like 93.2 million miles.

Kellen, I quickly realized, spent most of the time in his room and left then came back to the house at random intervals of the day. He left at noon one time and came back sometime around 3:40am two days later I mean, it was still dark out and stuff!

He had a billion girls on the go and somehow they were all too dumb to figure out about each other. If I wasn't totally grossed out, I'd be pretty impressed.

Stellar was quieter than Kellen and Gavril, he spent somewhere around four hours on the phone with this Lexie chick too. We weren't that close, me and him.

When Monday rolled around, I was pretty much ready to run outside and be eaten alive. But Kristine promised that wouldn't happen, no matter how much I wanted it to.

I kicked a pebble down the lumpy, narrow sidewalk, watching the carriages slug by, their wheels crackling on the cobbles below. People here were, I dunno, weird?

They were like, suspicious looking, always glancing up as if they expected something to come flying out of the sky. Which I couldn't see happening, it was always so cloudy.

Only once I'd seen the sun peek out from behind a mass of cottony black, casting warm rays of golden ribbons down for only a couple minutes, before the orange nimbus was firmly tucked back behind the clouds.

There were birds all the time, but they were quiet, as if they were actually scared if they chirped something would hear them.

I shrugged it off, digging my hands in my jean pockets and trying to keep pace with Gavril – who took strides like a giraffe. He was so clumsy, like his gawky legs weren't in tune with the rest of him.

"Why is everybody wearing those necklaces?" I sneered, staring at the long cross draped around a woman's neck, she walked between us without ever even giving either Gavril or me a glance.

Gavril grinned ruefully, "Haven't you ever read Dracula before?" He shook his head in mock scolding and I kicked another stone.

"I don't read." I snapped, I don't, not even restaurant menus. Gavril rolled his round green-brown eyes at me, raking his fingers through his hair and sighing.

"I swear…" He muttered under his breath, clenching his teeth and rolling his shoulders. Gavril appeared very tense for a moment, his steps hard and resounding on the pavement. "They're crucifixes, you know, like silver crucifixes."

"For the vampires?" I couldn't swallow the incredulity in my voice, my eyes tapering on him. Gavril shrugged a shoulder, his sandy hair bouncing with his steps, his freckles looked darker out here.

"It's all based around belief right, if you believe that it works it will – if you have faith that God will protect you, he will." Gavril smirked menacingly, "If you wear it just 'cause your scared you're screwed."

I pursed my lips, picking out a strand of my blonde hair and twisted it around my knuckles. The layers poked up this way and that in a silky frayed mess.

"Where's yours?" My eyes flickered around the collar of his shirt, wondering if he had it tucked inside.

Gavril laughed, "The girl I'm in love with is Undying remember? Plus, Dorian's teeth aren't what people are afraid of." His eyes were narrowed almost angrily, his voice had become sharp, his syllables lashing out as if I'd insulted him or something.

Oversensitive much.

"Vampires bite people right, I thought that was what the issue was." My nose wrinkled when we came across a food stand, it smelt of warm dough and fresh bread.

Gavril ducked his chin into the loose neck of his turtle-neck, his cheeks high with a big grin. "You have a lot to learn." Was all he said, I grunted.

It was a lengthy walk to the school and my legs felt like spaghetti noodles by the time we got there. Gavril came with me to the office to get my schedule, a nice little secretary named Ms. Filip babied me and I struggled to keep from gagging.

Gavril helped me find my locker and once I was all set up we began walking the hoards of rowdy teens towards his. There was a tall blonde in a short jean skirt eyeing me up the way a lion would a gazelle. I contemplated whether or not I could get away with punching someone on my first day.

Gavril stopped so quickly that I all but slammed right into him, after giving him a hard shove he bolted. I was cussing him all the way to his locker, where he snatched up a short girl, her red hair flaying while he twirled her.

Crossing my arms I paused to get a good look at her. She was tiny, relatively thin, her brown eyes looked almost like topaz jewels on her pale skin, making her jolt of scarlet hair stand out even more.

It came nearly to her lower back, loose curls curving around her oval face. Just scrutinizing her face, she was gorgeous, slender lips and childish features – she looked like someone who if they crouched could pass for a very glamorous toddler.

When Gavril finally let her go, I got a good look at what she wore – which was nearly nothing. A slim, silken moss green dress curved around her bodice like a second skin, accentuating her, well, um _large _chest.

She glanced at me an instant then turned back to wrap her arms around Gavril a second time.

Irritated I stomped forward, looking at them both. Gavril looked like he had never seen a girl before in his life and, for a good three seconds I thought that this Analeigh chick was just made up.

She had tattoos, I saw now, and they were beautiful. One was on her palm, a black rose with jagged, violent petals with harsh thorns and wicked vines. Another was on her shoulder, that was dark enough that I could see right through the material of her dress.

When she at long last met my gaze her lips twitched, topaz eyes narrowing, I though she was going to tear my face off and eat it or something. My heart began to race, the blood boiling in my veins.

"Red this is my cousin Sawyer." Gavril was breathless, and the redhead snapped to attention, turning to me and smiling shyly. I snorted, looking up at Gavril, "I thought you had a girlfriend?"

I jumped, a noise that sounded like a hiss making my breath hitch in my throat. My skin began to crawl, and something, I dunno what just deep – deep down inside me told me to run.

"Easy Red." Gavril said then laughed loudly, drawing uncomfortable attention to us. "Wow, never thought I'd say that." He took a breath a moment, the redhead still rigid and unblinking as she watched him.

"She means you Analeigh," Gavril was suddenly frantic, the girl's hands – which had become fists – relaxed and her cheeks began to show a rosy hue.

I jabbed a finger at this Analeigh person, cocking a brow at Gavril. "This is the vamp-" Gavril slapped his hand over my mouth, his skin tasted like salt and sweat and I bit into his fingers.

Jerking his hand back, Gavril scowled. "Shut up! Don't say that – if people knew…" He looked so hysteric that Analeigh began to giggle, it was a silvery sound that reminded me of soprano opera, my nose wrinkling.

She reached out and patted his arm, "It's okay, she didn't mean to." Analeigh gave me a once-over, clearing her throat and stretching her hand out between us to shake my hand. Eyes flickering between her and her hand I snorted.

"This is the one that bit you?" I tilted my head, Gavril's face reddened and Analeigh's eyes were alight with reminiscence. I shrugged a shoulder, "Yeah, so I heard your fiancé was pretty badass."

Analeigh snapped instantly from her thoughts, glaring at Gavril again. "You told her?" Now she looked upset spinning towards me and waving her hands frantically. "Dorian really isn't bad, he's amazing – you don't know him!"

I made a face at her, "Would you like, chill out, Gavril just said his bite wasn't what freaked people out and that he knocked you up a while ago."

Analeigh looked taken aback, then in pain, her eyes becoming glassy and horrified. Choking, a hiccup of a sob came passed her lips, Analeigh baring fangs at Gavril and I staggered back.

A tremor rocked through Gavril before he was stepping back too. Analeigh squeezed her eyes shut, wrapping her arms around her torso and leaning over herself.

People were looking, I could feel their eyes like lasers, but time stood completely still in this moment. I heard whispers then a high-pitched laugh, I caught glimpse of the tall blonde lioness and my hands balled into fists.

Gavril reached out for her but Analeigh snarled at him, "Don't touch me!" When she looked up her eyes were gleaming, but not the same chestnut brown, but a terrifying luminous red. My heart thudded in my chest and I listened to the echo rack my body in the silence of it all.

Analeigh put her hand out to lean against the wall of lockers. _Ssss! _The abrupt sound made me recoil behind Gavril, who remained perfectly still in shock.

Peeking fearfully over his shoulder I could see the metal of the locker melting beneath her palm, a circle of glowing hot orange.

Smelly curls of blue-grey smoke twisted out from the mangled metal, Analeigh snatching her hand back, ogling at the locker and in at the burning contents.

She looked petrified, whirling on her heels and tilting forward, before I could take my next breath she vanished into nothing.

Voices flooded in from all angles, people whispering, teachers hustling students to classes. Then there were gasps and someone shouted, "look over here!"

Before I could assess all this for myself, what had happened, the girl I had just seen burning a hole through metal with her touch. Her glistening crimson eyes…

Gavril whipped around on me, seizing my shoulders and shaking me. My hair slashed over my face, my feet unable to stay stationary, I tried to take hold of him and steady myself.

He was yelling at me, but it took me a moment to make it out. Gavril's green-brown eyes were wild, a mad man's eyes. "Never, _never_ mention Lilliana!" He kept screaming this at me, but I didn't understand.

And that, was how I met my first vampire.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter 3

School was stupid.

I decided I wasn't going back – ever. I'm dropping out. Gavril was so mad about me making his girlfriend runaway that he wouldn't talk to me for the whole day. He left me to search for my classes, so I missed first period, English, and I got a detention for being late third period.

The teachers were horrible. A lady actually smacked my desk with this meter stick because I was listening to my ipod, during this really boring lesson about quadratics.

The icing on the cake? I found out who Eliani is, yeah, she tripped me on my way into the photography room. I was about to shove that massive black square of camera down her throat, but the teacher came in before I got the chance.

Her and her little drones actually sit behind me, I had to listen to their gossiping all through class.

What was I doing now? Certainly not my quadratics homework.

With enough poking around I found the little cabinet of alcohol in the pantry. Aunt Kristine was working overtime at the hospital and Uncle Nick was somewhere up town typing up his article for the paper.

Gavril had locked himself in his room with a case of Red bull and Stellar was out catching a movie with Alexis, who apparently is his girlfriend.

I took a tall bottle of Vodka, a fat bottle of rum and a shot glass back to the guest room. Digging my ipod port up in my bags and hunting down an outlet to blare my music until the walls were shaking.

Screaming along with Avril Lavigne, I sat on the floor throwing back shots until I was so light-headed I could barely make out where everything was in the room.

I was happy when I was drunk. It made me feel good, like I was in a different world. It made me forget that everything hurt. Being dizzy was such an amazing feeling, my head was spinning and my body just floated.

It reminded me of dancing. Cutting.

So I closed my eyes and shoved reality away for a while.

It was hard standing on the bed, but I liked it when I slipped, and I closed my eyes and jumped.

My hair bounced on my shoulders, whipped at my face. My knees buckled and my ankles twisted, throwing my head to the side, I had fallen off the bed when two people walked in.

Laughing I felt the bump on the back of my head where I had smashed it off the dresser. My ankles hurt from jumping on the bed and my back throbbed, having taken most of the impact.

Warm hands slid under my arms, hoisting me to my feet. Kellen has a twin? Since when? I giggled, tumbling over myself and into one of them.

I could hear their cursing and muttering, my music cut of abruptly and I struggled to protest. He sat me on the end of the bed, turning and picking up the bottles.

The Kellens whistled, shaking their heads and looking me over carefully. "You drank all my Vodka?" He didn't sound angry I decided, flopping on to my back into the mushy, itchy coverlet of the bed.

The ceiling whirled, bubbled and burped at me. I covered my eyes, feeling myself spin around and around and around in fast circles. I swatted hair away from my face, inhaling deeply and humming the tune of my favourite song.

When they took hold of me again I groaned, I never had this problem at home. Mom would watch me come in and take whatever alcohol we had in our wine cupboard, and leave me to my own undoing.

Here there was all this touching and stuff, all these questions I was too drunk to answer. I think I managed to tell the Kellens to piss off but they both chuckled and continued to interrogate me.

"You'd better sober up before doctor mom gets home, she'll have a fit." He was saying, pulling me up from my laying position. They turned my arms and lifted the legs of my jeans. He was looking for wounds, bruises, scratches.

He'd find a lot of those.

I bruised like a peach 'cause of my "condition," plus like, it wouldn't be the first time I started bleeding 'cause I fell or like, hurt myself when I was drunk.

It just happens, ya know? It's like, it just happens. I dunno. One time I had to go to the hospital. I got all plugged into those big machines that went beep, beep and the doctors went all crazy and stuff when I passed out.

They took my arms gently, leading me out of my room. I liked walking drunk too, it was exciting. Everything was all blurry like I was going at like, supersonic speed. I was Superman.

The halls were melting when we came to them, and the Kellens had to keep their arms around me 'cause I kept on falling and junk. They were cursing when we reached the narrow stairs, I was glad they were carpeted, I closed my eyes and let my feet drag.

"Eww." I spat, pushing away the cup of water they offered me. "No, No," I kept saying, turning my head this way and that.

They were resilient, even when I tried explaining that I wanted Kristine to find me like this, they wouldn't listen. They wouldn't listen.

Kellen sighed, crossing his big arms over his chest when I started to kick. I thought, if they wasn't like related to me and all, and wasn't ya know, like 30 I'd probably have a crush on them.

"I have a date at five, and I cannot leave you here like this kiddo." He mussed my hair and I sneered, earning a laugh for my efforts. "I'm gonna make you some toast-" I began to slide out of my chair and under the table "-and you're gonna eat it, got it."

I woke up to the smell of burnt, just burnt. And I jerked up in the kitchen chair to Gavril and Kellen arguing, they were both laughing and pushing at each other.

"You can't do anything!" Gavril was shouting, Kellen wore a hilarious grin, holding his arm out to keep his brother from getting to close. "The only thing you can make is water – how did you frigging manage to burn toast?"

Kellen shrugged innocently, I began to press my nails into my temples, squeezing my eyes shut. My head was hurting so badly.

"Mariah called me." The way Kellen say that, made me think the phone call was a very good one.

"Ugh!" Gavril threw his hands up, "You are so useless!" He shoved Kellen aside, retrieving the remnants of two pieces of toast. You wouldn't have known they were once bread though, they looked more like charcoal.

The small, old toaster clattered, taking in two more fresh slices of bread. Gavril moved about the kitchen, opening and shutting cabinets and placing an oval, glassy Advil in front of me beside a tall glass of water.

The kitchen became quiet, save for the annoying buzz of the toaster. Gavril cleared his throat, folding his lanky arms over his chest.

"Mariah. Mariah McKinney?" He raised a brow at Kellen, who pursed his lips and nodded. "Isn't that Bianca's older sister?" Another nod. Gavril sighed, "I thought you were only seeing Alina."

Kellen rubbed his chin, the crackle of stubble coming from beneath his palm. He smirked, "Yup. So does she, so don't ruin it."

"You're disgusting." I grumbled into my arms, slugging back a mouthful of water and cringing well the dry lump of Advil snagged on the back of my throat.

Gavril snickered, Kellen's eyes narrowed beneath his sheath of golden hair. "I've got that before…only, with a slap." He sounded distant, remembering something else. "And then I got chased out by an angry Dad – but that's another story."

Twang! Gavril stopped the toaster, unplugging the small beige contraption, placing two pieces of golden brown toast on the table in front of me.

His face became extremely serious then. "I, uh, I saw Analeigh…today." Kellen's eyes lit up at Gavril's comment, a million memories flashed in his green-brown irises.

Gavril then proceeded to glare at me, looking ready to beat me over the head with the toaster. I wouldn't have minded.

"She's just like him." His voice sharpened again, and Gavril hung his head, pretending to scrub at a patch on his t-shirt. Kellen sighed and reached out to pat his brother's shoulder.

"She hasn't changed man she's just-" Gavril gave Kellen a sour glance, and I wondered if Gavril was going to cry "-she's still clumsy, dorky, totally hot Analeigh."

I made a repulsed face into the empty glass on the table. She was like my age and he was like, old.

"Kellen she burned a locker! She's gonna be burning down houses eventually – just like him! She's just another bloodsucker." Gavril's voice got softer and softer, until finally, he was speaking on a breath. It was as if the wind had been knocked out of him, he sounded like a car running on fumes.

Kellen snorted, "Is that how you truly feel or are you seriously that jealous." Gavril shook his head, closing his eyes tightly.

My brain was pounding, smashing around in my head like one big mosh-pit. I wasn't even hung-over yet. Man, tomorrow was gonna totally blow.

"He's so…wrong." Gavril was suddenly furious. "You get that right? Can you see him fu-" Kellen cut Gavril off fluently, hooking his arm around Gavril's shoulders.

"For one, never ever put that image in my head. And two, leave her alone, James is James and she'll do what she wants. You've been besties since you were in Pampers – nothing can change that." Kellen squeezed Gavril's shoulders, releasing him and turning on the balls of his feet.

In a matter of twenty minutes Kellen had showered, changed his clothes, lost and found his truck keys and vanished out the door off to meet his date. Gavril was leaning against the counter, his face cupped in his hands.

"So you really like her huh?" I murmured, picking at the smooth wooden table. Gavril grunted faintly, "I really love her, you mean."

That evening was awkward. Kellen was gone, and we sat around the kitchen table eating in silence. Stellar was home in a cheerful haze, coasting around the house as if riding on cloud nine.

Kristine had "discussed," the matter of me stealing alcohol in her office.

She didn't shout, rather jabbed her finger at me and scolded in this livid growl of a voice. It really didn't have an affect on me…I mean, I'd had infuriated police officers scream at me before.

I promised not to do it again, that I would behave, and that was it. She let me off, but I had a gut feeling that she would be watching me like a hawk.

Gavril was quiet for most of the night, pent up in his room watching the old versions of Friday the 13thand, staring at his ceiling.

For a while I tried to read Macbeth by William Shakespeare – the only book I'll ever want to read and ever will read. It's so tragic and still so awesomely gory, I can't help it.

Tossing back and forth in bed for hours it on end, arms bare and itchy because of the scratchy duvet. I could feel my body sinking in the squashy mattress as if it was eating me whole.

I slept restlessly yanking my pillow over my head, squeezing my eyes tightly shut and groaning into the cushiony material. I was spinning in my dreams, I was on stage, I was dancing.

Ballet, free style, I remembered this recital. This was a flashback for me not too long ago, just a year or two.

My feet were bleeding in my pointe shoes, I could feel it with every step I took. The crusty feeling of dried blood between my toes, my soiled bandages scraping together.

I loved it, I loved having all eyes on me, being in my leotards and tutu. Yeah, it's girly for sure, but it was amazing.

Fat beads of sweat slipped down the back of my neck, my body felt hot, burning hot. The soft baby hairs on the back of my neck standing on end and causing me to tremble with excited shivers.

The lights on the edge of the stage were so bright I could not see more than the shady black silhouettes of the front row. Cameras flashed, the abrupt bright flicker dancing across my Father's proud features.

My heart was racing erratically in my chest, I tried desperately to keep my face composed, relaxed while breathing so heavily it hurt.

My body bent, leaped and twirled, I closed my eyes allowing myself to dissolve into the flow of it all. The piano tune that I followed, that lead me across the stage.

I couldn't breathe by the time the audience was clapping, my chest rising and falling wilding. I smiled, curtsied and slipped off stage right, where I found Harlow, my best friend.

I jumped at her, squealing and laughing. For a moment it was just us, nothing more than the two of us alone here.

Harlow's black curls bounced, glimmering in the dim light. Her russet skin was smooth against mine, her hands gripping my fingers. Harlow's blue eyes were wide, almond shaped and excited, we were breathless but continued screeching.

"Sawyer you did it! You did it!" She was gasping, "You were so beautiful!"

Wrapping my arms around her Harlow squeezed me tightly, her gentle voice light and bubbly.

"You did it! You did it!"

My face was wet with tears happy, happy tears. My Father pushed a bouquet of bright, beautiful fuchsia orchids into my arms, drawing me away from Harlow to kiss my forehead.

"Congratulations baby."

I wrenched up, feeling sticky and gross. Rubbing my eyes I peered down, staring into the large dark patch in the blankets. Shuffling beneath the sheets I waited for my eyes to adjust, then screamed.

Kicking my sheets back I started searching for the cut, I tried not to panic – this happened so often now. My throat had grown dry and brittle with my sharp breaths, I pulled my shirt up to find the vicious scratch markings on my stomach.

"Damn sheets!" I cried. I'd been so itchy in my sleep my nails punctured my skin. There was a great pool around me already, dark and frighteningly red in the white mattress.

My hands were damp, covered in my own blood, but I wasn't bleeding too quickly, I would have started blacking out already if that happened.

I shouted the first thing that came to my lips. "Daddy!" Then I remembered, I wasn't at home, he wouldn't come running to me. The ominous crimson had soaked through the belly of my t-shirt, and I scrambled to get out of bed.

My vision was blurry, my face burning with sweltering tears. Sobs hiccupped over my dry throat, leaving behind a sharp, hoarse feeling.

Rushing out into the hall I gripped the door frame, my legs were wobbly and riddled with sleep. I couldn't remember which door was Aunt Kristine's, so I raced for the stairs, holding fast to the railing and making my way noisily down, leaving a trail of black dribbles.

I hit the kitchen floor and collapsed, a thick arm anxiously coming around my waist. I gripped the flannel sleeve frenziedly, unable to see at all in the dark space of the kitchen entrance.

"Easy, Sawyer, I got you." It was Uncle Nick, I couldn't even begin express how relieved I was to hear his voice.

He jerked me to my feet, holding me close as we made out way through the kitchen. He didn't bother with a coat, grabbing a dish towel and pressing it into my stomach as he lead me outside.

The night air bit at my exposed legs and arms, I jolted with violent shivers, my bare feet rustling through the grass of the yard. Nick jostled me into the passenger side of the jeep, sprinting around the front to hustle into the driver's seat.

The Jeep leapt into motion, speeding down the short driveway and out into the road. With the passing of every streetlight I could see for an instant, the slick sheen of sweat dousing my Uncle's face.

He looked terrified, his hands clutching the wheel in trembling fists. Uncle Nick's hair was still in a mess of shaggy blonde, spiking up in all directions, he must have been having a good sleep.

He kept glancing over at me, but I was staring at the cloth in my hands. My fingertips were numb, pressing the lumpy dish towel hard into my skin. I could see the red seeping into it, could feel the hot wet on my palms.

I peered up long enough to catch a glimpse of two people with a dog. Who walks a dog this late at night? I thought, gazing at the clock on the dash that read 5:37am.

The headlights landed on them only for a few seconds, I barely managed to see a woman with long, deep brown hair wearing a pale grey dress. Beside her was a man, his dark hair almost touching his shoulders, his green eyes vibrant and brooding.

The dog with them was all black and wild looking, it's fur was thick and mangy. Long slender ears perked up when we passed, it's snout showing few scars.

I could have sworn it's eyes were white, but we were long beyond them before I could verify it. Nick swore under his breath, reaching across the console to pat my hair.

"We're almost there." He promised, I nodded weakly, sinking into the seat and closing my eyes. I was so tired so very, horribly tired.

Uncle Nick swept me out of the jeep by the great white doors, clutching me to his chest and running inside. I heard shouting, saw blue uniforms towering over me and knew immediately where I was.

They were talking in swift, unintelligible spurts. Their accents making them seem angry, barking back and forth, running this way and that.

They put me on a soft, snug bed and I calmed down, if only for a moment. I heard Nick stammering as he tried to explain my illness to the doctors while I started to fall asleep.

A nurse gripped my arm and I was awake again, ripped from relaxation by cold latex gloves. She was saying something I didn't understand, and I started squirming when she stabbed an IV into my arm.

Another man brought a mask over my face, pinching something on my finger. I screamed, kicking my feet up, hearing the loud, shrill beeping noise of a monitor.

They were talking rowdily now, pinning my legs too the bed. We were moving, the long, hideous fluorescent lights speeding by in bright blurs above me.

I tried to move my legs, but the hands on me were firm and uncompromising. "Stop it!" My voice was muffled by the mask over my mouth, "Let go of me!"

Thrashing frantically, I tried to sit up to swat the nurse away from my legs. Two more people came to hold me down, Uncle Nick being one of them. "It's okay honey, they're only trying to help." He said, combing his fingers through my hair.

The dangly IV bag wheeling beside me swung back and forth, I could feel the anaesthetic ploughing through my veins.

A woman who I thought was my doctor laughed ruefully, her grey-brown hair tightly held in a ponytail swinging behind her head. "She's a spirited one." She was breathless, her hand tightly restraining my right arm.

"Fuck you!" I yelled, wrestling against her.

We burst through giant silver swinging doors, and then I blacked out.

&&&

I had a drug induced dream, where I was in the hospital with Dad, laying in a bed. It smelt strongly of sanitizers that were meant to cover the horrid stench of death.

He was petting my hair, Dad's hazel eyes were dark with sleep deprivation, fat purple bags hanging beneath them. His hair, usually slicked back and refined was chaotic, which frightened me for some reason.

"Hey. Sawyer." He said quietly, his voice hoarse and tired. Dad's knuckles swept gently over my cheek, he smiled weakly.

"Hey." I mumbled, licking my dry lips and blinking hard. Dad cleared his throat, reaching across my bed to pluck up a pretty red tulip and touch the petals to my nose. "Mom here?"

His eyebrows launched upward, causing deep creases to form in his forehead. "She, um, she decided to stay at home." He tried to make his voice light, but it made no difference to me.

I had almost died, and she was at home – probably dancing in the living room, listening to Jimmy Hendrix.

Nodding I forced a grin. "I want to stay here. Just another night." I gazed over at the IV in my arm, following the clear cord up to the hanging plastic bag.

I was shot with a high that left me somewhere between awake and sleep. It numbed everything inside me, made me woozy and I liked it.

Dad shook his head, "They say you're ready to come home now. Doctor Lynn is just getting your paperwork ready."

I sighed, closing my eyes and delving into the void of sleep and awake.

Dad pressed his lips to my forehead, his warm hand lifting from my cheek. I listened as his lethargic steps crossed the room, heard the chair in the corner creek as he sat down. He was snoring within ten minutes.

"Sawyer?" It was a ghost voice, an unfamiliar, a phantom in my room. I jumped up, scowling when the tape over my IV tore at my arm hairs.

"Sawyer?" It said again in a soft, gently sing-song voice, "Are you okay?"

Blinking I sat up, peering blearily around my dark room in the hospital. The ugly turquoise curtain around my bed was drawn, and the glowing screen of the monitor beside me was bleeping loudly.

I rubbed my eyes, gripping the well-starched hospital sheets back to get a good like at myself.

The blue gown I wore was flimsy and uncomfortable, the latches at the back itching my skin. I lifted the high circular collar and looked under the dress, white bandages were firmly wrapped around my tummy, closing in the mess that I was sure my stomach was.

Blinking sleepily I stared at the clear IV drip above me, at the long tubes running down into my arm.

Sniffling I pried the perfect square of tape away, taking hold of the grey band connecting the needle in my vein to the glassy tubes. My fingers trembled drowsily, I pinched the band and gradually extracted the thin, inch long needle from my arm.

Flicking the contraption away I examined the puckering wound in the crease of my elbow, leaning down to suck at the bead of blood that had formed.

Someone cleared their throat and I stiffened, startled by the sudden noise in the dark silence. My throat was dry with a thick layer of sleep causing me to struggle for words. "Dad-" I speedily righted myself. "Uncle Nick, is that you?"

My hair tickled my face as I looked around the room, sitting up against the chilly metal headboard. Hands balling into fists I made the best stance I could whilst sitting, for a fight.

Analeigh laughed, emerging from the shadows beside my bed to sit on the white metal ledge next to me. I opened my mouth to scream but she covered my mouth before I got the chance, to even suck in a deep enough breath.

She put her free hand over her mouth, and I nodded, watching her pull her hand away.

"What-what do you want?" I demanded sharply, still groggy from the anaesthetics, "You gonna suck my blood?" I glared and she giggled.

"Oh God no, I would hate to become as drugged up as you are." She smiled warmly, baring a row of pointed teeth, curling a strand of her scarlet hair around and around between her fingers. She looked at her hair as if she was in love with it.

"I was in the neighbourhood, and I wanted to see if you were okay." Her nose wrinkled, "You smell awful, they gave you so many transfusions."

I sneered, "Yeah, shit happens." Shrugging I scrubbed my eyes, taking in her gorgeous figure, enveloped in a bright, ice blue cocktail dress.

A long black dragon made up of sequins running up the length of her left side, it's head stopping on her breast, it's mouth wide to show long black jaws.

"I've never seen Mr. Cohen so worried, he's sitting outside the door fast asleep in a waiting chair." She laughed a little, the same musical silvery sound of a vampire, I grunted.

"Who's Lilliana?" I asked, making a point to watch out for her hands. Analeigh clenched her teeth, collected a big breath and blew out a hardy gust before answering me.

"Um, she was my baby." I knew she wasn't done, and even though Gavril had already told me about her pregnancy, I couldn't help but gawk a little at her. She was just like, sixteen! Analeigh nodded at my shocked expression, her lips twitching. "Mine and Dorian's. But she…she, um, she died."

I remembered when my parents tried to have another kid after me. Mom had three miscarriages and when she finally did get pregnant and got all fat and stuff, her baby – my little sister Natalie – was a stillborn.

Mom kind of drank it all off, I could still find a red wine bottle or two around the house if I made an effort to. Funny thing is, Dad never recovered from it, like he wanted Natalie even more than mom did.

"No," Analeigh shook her head, as if she had read my mind. "It wasn't a miscarriage-" her eyes were glowing that same abnormally resplendent red and I started to scramble away from her, to the farthest part of the bed "-I, um, I killed her – I think – I can't remember."

"How can you not remember?" I didn't mean to sound so angry, but the idea was so wild. I'd think any parent would definitely recall an event like that.

"Dorian kind of erased my memory." She shrugged her shoulder, running her finger along the length of her knee nonchalantly.

Her face was not at all animated, as if that should not be surprising to me at all. Analeigh's eyes, however; told another story. Her gold irises were flecked by the faintest hints of crimson, they told me a miserable, nightmarish tale and it made me shiver.

"Doesn't that like, piss you off?" I murmured, my voice slighted by scepticism.

Analeigh smiled weakly, "You sound like Gavril." She tilted her head, watching her long red hair curve around her shoulder. "Perhaps not as angry though."

I pursed my lips reflectively. "How did you know I was here? Hey wait – how the hell did you even get in here? And what was with burning that hole in the locker the other day?" I rained questions on her, Analeigh's brows arching, she looked overwhelmed.

"Dorian, Hristea and Emilia saw Mr. Cohen heading to the hospital and thought it was Gavril-"

I interjected. "So you came running." I hadn't intended to sound so sardonic, realizing I was talking to somebody who burned lockers with her hands.

Analeigh nodded. "It was quite easy getting inside – being this fast is really helpful when it comes to security cameras and guards. As for the locker-" she cringed "-I didn't mean to it's just that…I don't like talking about her."

I made a mental note to never bring up Analeigh being knocked up by a vampire. Crossing my arms I made a sour face, feeling the ache in my elbow crease.

"Gavril says you're his girlfriend, but you're engaged and all…" My voice trailed away and for an instant I wondered if that was some kind of vampire thing Gavril forgot to fill me in on – having two boyfriends.

"We're not dating." Analeigh spoke anxiously now, her eyes wide and hysterical. "We-we're not even really…friends."

My nose wrinkled, did Gavril know any of this?

She sighed, "It's kind of complicated." When I nodded she laughed, tucking flaming strands of her lengthy hair behind her ears. When she did this, she looked even more like a child and my lips fidgeted on my face.

Analeigh's back straightened brusquely, her head jerking towards the window on the other side of the curtain. "I have to go now."

I reached out to grab her, but before I could she had disappeared, leaving only the flicker of the turquoise curtain behind. I scrubbed my eyes again, hoping that maybe I was having another dream.

Jabbing my finger into the teeny hole in my elbow I squealed, clapping my hand over my lip at the sudden shock of pain that ravaged my arm.

So I definitely was not dreaming.

It took me a while to doze again, and I was considering putting the needle back in and letting the anaesthetics knock me out again. Closing my eyes I started counting sheep – however stupid that is.

I felt my body sinking, tumbling into the warmth of the thin fabrics laying over me and the thick layers of sleep clinging to my mind. I was almost gone when I heard a ruffle, eyes flying wide open.

Someone was there, but I was too groggy to see. Pushing myself up I dug around in the bed for the button that would call the nurses. A hand covered mine when I grabbed it, swallowing my entire hand whole.

When I looked up, my throat constricted by fear I saw a piercing smile. I squinted hard, but I couldn't make out their whole face. Wide, luminous green eyes met mine, gleaming an impossible colour.

They pushed me back into my laying position and felt the warm, salty tears coursing down my hazy eyes. They ran their fingers through my hair and left a tuft of bright, fuchsia orchids beside me.

I couldn't move! Why couldn't I move? My whole body was numb with their gaze, the persons smile widened and I could have sworn I'd caught the gleam off of fangs. Then, just like that, they vanished.

In the morning Aunt Kristine came rushing in, her eyes frantic and wide. Her hands fluttered over me until finally she snatched me up, grimaced when she hugged me. "Oh Sawyer! I was so worried! I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner."

"It's fine, really, shit like this happens all the time – no big deal." I shrugged, hurrying to escape her embrace. She seized my arm then, seeing the now scabbed over hole in my elbow crease and gasping.

"Who did this?" She demanded, her voice both furious and concerned.

Pulling away from her I shrugged, "I did. I hate being plugged up like that."

Kristine went to scold me, frowning instead and leaning in to kiss my cheek. "I'll have someone come in and get you some breakfast." I watched her depart, closing the door and speaking in a muffled voice with Uncle Nick.

I couldn't hear it all, but I could just make out bits and pieces of their conversation. "…I'm worried about her Nicholas…she's just like Nathan…yes, yes I know but…"

I rolled my eyes, in what world was I even a tad bit like my Father? Allowing myself to slump back into the bed I rolled onto my side to stare into the faces of tall, eccentrically electric purple orchids.

Sitting up I glared into their pretty eyes, searching the bouquet for a card of some sort. Then I realized Dad must've told Nick and Kristine all of my favourite things, including my favourite flowers.

I had just reached for the button to call the nurses when a large, dark-skinned man walked in. He donned a white uniform, a colourful head band and a very big, puckering crescent shaped scar on his throat.

He smiled widely, his bow shaped lips parting to show his pearly teeth. "Hey there Miss Sawyer, can I get you anything? Oranges, pudding, apple juice?"

Opening my mouth I was about to ask if he could get me some pot, then quickly decided against that. "Everything. And some water." I pointed at the flowers on my plastic side table. "Do you know who brought these?"

He pursed his big lips and shook his head. "Well um, I'm not too sure, the only visitors have been your uncle and aunt." I repeated his words over and over, figuring it was probably Uncle Nick.

My nose wrinkled, maybe I was just seeing things. I pressed my lips together and nodded, the nurse smiled and left the room again after checking the chart at the foot of my bed.

I looked at the steady green, red and yellow lines moving across the monitor beside me. They bleeped whenever a line would jump up, indicating my heart rate.

Swallowing I curled back into the squashy hospital pillows, turned my head and stared out the window into the bleary grey skies.

Crows moved about the clouds, making no noise. Bright golden rays began to poke their fingers out from behind the ugly clouds.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter 3

Three weeks went by, and I was continuously haunted by that image. The smile, the fangs, the orchids.

Not even Uncle Nick knew where they had come from, assuming that perhaps someone was watching over me. I snubbed that idea immediately.

Eliani and I grew no closer in school, in fact she had thrown a paper ball at my head and I kicked her desk into her stomach. Luckily for me, our teacher, Ms. Carr was nowhere to be seen. I'd been suspended at my school at home for pulling a "stunt," like that.

She didn't bother me for the rest of the day, which I was grateful for, but she sent one of her cult members after me in science. Her name was Danika, and she promised me that Eliani was going to make my life a living hell.

I told her to bring it on.

We got our cameras in photography, and I had gone in search of Gavril after school to show him the giant hunk of junk, only to find him running off with Analeigh.

I walked home alone, wondering where she could be taking him. The clouds were grumbling amongst themselves, speaking of rain and thunder. I kicked a pebble up the street, fumbling with the zooms and numerous buttons on my camera.

I was almost home when I heard something behind me in the bushes. For an instant I released my camera, letting it hang from the strap around my neck. Cracking my knuckles I began looking for a tall blonde.

The noises lead me deep into the trees behind the subdivision. I was glad Eliani wanted to keep this on the DL, it would ruin her reputation if she was seen getting her ass kicked by a four-teen-year-old.

Slapping the leaves and bracken out of my face, I came face-to-snout to with a very big, very black.

It eyed me carefully and I staggered backward, slipping on my undone laces to plant loudly on my behind. It made a noise in the back of it's throat that sounded like a husky, dry chuckle and I snorted.

"Jerk." I hissed, flicking the flash on my camera and lifting it to my eye to snap a photo. It jumped at first, stunned and growling. I crawled back, twigs snapping and dirt clots ripping up across my track pants.

It's eyes were white – like I mean, weird, not-normal-for-a-wolf-white. They swept swiftly over me, the wolf's pink tongue flicking out to taste the air before it's big, lengthy jaws were glistening.

It came closer and closer, with it's strides I became stiffer and stiffer, holding my breath and squeezing my eyes shut. I could feel it's breath, warm and sharp, cold dribbles of wet splattering on my cheek.

I opened one eye, too curious for my own good, to find it staring me deeply in the eyes. I clenched my teeth, my grip on my camera slipping as my palms became slick and sweaty.

Clear, glassy chains of drool wove through the wolf's jaws, oozing down from it's black lips. My fingers twitched when a hot splatter splashed down onto the back of my hand.

My heart was racing, when it leaned forward, guttural breaths lashing across my face. Suddenly it froze, eyes narrowed on something in the shadow of the trees I could not see.

It's lengthy, frayed black ears slicked down on it's hefty neck dark, damp lips curling upwards in a snarl. Then it whipped back to me, a squeak of a shriek tearing up my throat.

I gasped, a smooth, wet tongue lapping at my cheek before it darted off back into the trees where it had been looking. I sat for a few extra moments, swearing that I could see fire in the bushes, leaves burning but not smoking.

Jerking up I sprinted out from the green, tripping over myself and falling forward on the asphalt. My hands scraped the pavement, palms becoming bloody as I tore back up tom feet and kept running.

My lungs were burning, a huge fire igniting in my chest as I ran, rasping. Eyes watering I broke into the house, slamming the door behind me and dashing for the stairs.


	5. Chapter Five

Alright, I'm not giving anything away I just have one question for you guys to answer: too soon?

Okay thanks, please pleas PLEASE tell me what ya think!!

~Selene

* * *

Chapter 4

I spent four hours waiting for the stupid shot to develop, and finding a dark room in the house was hard enough as is. Not to mention it's the crawl space in the basement, that is like, dank and dry and totally creepy.

Cobwebs hung above my head, fat spiders with long ugly, hairy legs scuttled around on the floor, staring at me with their beady eyes.

It was all worth it, and I sat in bed after dinner, gazing into the white eyes of the wolf I'd seen earlier. I was so excited, but I decided not to tell Kristine or Nick, I mean, when I showed Gavril he just gawked at me as if I was insane.

I couldn't get that moment out of my head, just seeing the wolf really, really seeing it – up close and personal like that. The feel of it's tongue on my face, warm and damp it made me shudder.

Curling under the quilt Aunt Kristine had given me as replacement I closed my eyes, clutching the picture of the wolf to my chest.

This place was…new.

Well, then again, this was a dream so I guess I just thought up whatever I wanted, and this is what I came up with. The house was massive and the halls went on and on forever.

The walls were each a shady, rich scarlet covered in lengthy, elegant paintings of people I had never seen before. And the ceilings – oh God the ceilings! I nearly screamed when I looked up, gawking into the ruby eyes of a dragon, it's scales rippling and glowing.

I went on and on in the maze of elaborate rooms and gigantic reptilians, knowing I was going somewhere but having no idea where.

Numerous people went by me, each wearing freshly ironed black trousers and tucked-in burgundy t-shirts. They walked with purpose, their expressions hard and emotionless.

When I reached out to talk to them they would just hustle by me as if I wasn't even there. "Help me!" I shouted, jumping in the way of a short blonde taking hold of her shoulders and trying to get her to stop.

She just kept walking onward, expressionless, blind. I was invisible, I thought, that must be it – she simply could not see me.

I released her, falling forward onto my hands and knees, having been hit by another person – a thin man with black hair. "God damn it!" I growled, crawling through legs, being knocked over my knees, to the nearest wall.

"Here." It was a deep, rumbling voice that made me leap half way out of my skin. A large, pale hand stood before me.

My eyes quickly shot up the tight, pale green knit sleeve, over the bulging biceps and shoulders that looked like rocks, to a very unfamiliar face.

His hair was a deep shade of brown, cropped short and even. His face held rough, gorgeous features with wide, round eyes that shone such a luminous, bright green colour.

I couldn't find a flaw, not in his smooth, slightly prominent cheekbones, not in his slanted, smirk of a bow-shaped mouth.

He pulled me too my feet, and I couldn't help but notice just how tiny I was. This kind of height difference only came with Gavril and I.

My frigging Mother just had to be so frigging short.

Except Gavril was pubescent and had to stop growing at some point. But this guy was no kid, no teenager still growing into his skin.

I drew my hand back swiftly, clenching my teeth when someone bumped my shoulder. "Um," I started, watching his smile grow and feeling my face flush.

Mentally, I kicked myself, I wasn't one of those stupid blush-in-front-of-a-cute-boy bimbos. It angered me that he could make me feel like this, just like that – through a glance, through a touch.

I didn't even know this guy!

"That's the point of a dream is it not? The vagueness, the anonymity, the mystery of trying to decipher it's secrets." His voice was smooth, and I felt my insides melting, cursing this feeling – these butterflies.

My mind went wild, racing a mile a minute, trying to place where I had seen him before – if I'd seen him before. My nose wrinkled out of frustration and I pressed my lips together, letting him comb the long, stray layers of blonde from my face.

"Who are you?" My voice was hesitant, pathetic and I scowled. His grin was almost sardonic, my arms became limp strings of spaghetti in his hands, they fit comfortably around his neck.

He leaned in, pressing the tip of his nose to my forehead. "You mean you don't remember me? I cannot believe how quickly you've forgotten."

I wasn't really…listening. More or less being drowned by his scent, the sweet bitterness of it, the way it made my head spin, my blood rush.

Focusing on not throwing up butterflies I held my breath, squeezing my eyes just and trying to remember – I definitely would remember his face.

Noting the people passing by, drones that were entirely oblivious to our presence, I bit into my lip. "Why can't they see me?" I glared into the back of the black haired, thin man as he passed again.

"Would you prefer they did?" It seemed just as quickly as he had said that voices, screams, cries broke out like I had been a deaf person hearing for the first time, I yelped.

"Sire." They nodded, a woman curtsied, while others averted their gaze, or stopped and turned to the opposite direction.

I shook my head, "I don't get it, sire?" He rolled his eyes thick, dark lashes fluttering when he blinked.

"It gets old." He shrugged, pivoting to glower into the mass, I tried to follow his gaze, using is shoulders as leverage and lifting myself up a little.

There was someone else here, another person, and when I finally caught his gaze I realized they were the same person. No, perhaps not, the man in the distance was not as muscular, was not as coarsely featured.

His hair was longer, just barely in reach of his shoulders. He blinked once, folded his arms over his chest and stared blankly back at me.

"Who-" I began, but he did not let me finish.

"Dorian thinks me unpredictable." He looked at me now, scrutinized my face a moment and smirked. "I am unpredictable."

Clenching my teeth I hurried to look back at the man in the distance, certain that I must have seen him somewhere. However before I could verify this, he was gone – completely gone.

I tried to memorize the man before me, his face, his voice. But the knots in my stomach promised me that I would not soon forget him.

He leaned down, pressing his mouth to my forehead. The act was so simple, so utterly meagre and still my heart cracked against my ribs with the force of a bull.

"Hey!" I yelled when he pulled away, my arms slipping down to my sides from where they had been on his shoulders.

He wove through the crowd as if it was nothing, but when I tried to follow, I could only bump shoulders and be shoved back ward. I watched him ghost through the hoard of burgundy uniforms, slipping by them lithe and graceful, until I could see him no more.

"But I didn't even get your name." I grumbled to myself, sinking my teeth grudgingly into my bottom lip.

How could I be totally stunted by a dream? That's ridiculous, he was just some stupid fantasy and I still couldn't manage to get so much as a first name? Talk about pathetic.

"Watch it!" I hissed, hardly able to catch my ground when a woman struck my shoulder. Her blonde ponytail swung, her face entirely vacant, she didn't even realize what she'd done.

Shooting upward I gasped, coughing the dry sleep from my lungs and wiped my eyes.

My legs felt heavy, my quilt weighing me down. When I opened my eyes I was startled to face a layer of bright fuchsia orchids. Their stems were long, healthy looking green, topped by their beautiful faces.

Running my fingertips over the silky petals, I gazed around the room for the source of all these flowers. For a split second I half expected to see the man from my dream, yeah, like that would ever happen.

Pushing the quilt down to my waist I rolled the base of my t-shirt up, gently running my fingers along the thin ridges of my stitches. The skin of my stomach was tender, gathered and ugly, it was red and slightly scabbed around the brown thread.

It made me want to be sick.

Collecting all the stiff, strong orchid stems I took each flower with me out into the hall, down the narrow carpeted stairs and into the kitchen in search of a vase.

Colour spewed into the kitchen windows, through the pale curtains and casting squares of almost-morning light onto the floor. I moved around in a foggy trance, caught between a sleepy trance and being wide awake.

I sniffled, taking hold of Kristine's expensive cerulean terracotta vase and filling it up halfway with cold water. Centering the vase in the middle of the dining table I placed my orchids inside, a dozen pretty fuchsia faces.

After making myself a cheese sandwich, unearthing a bottle of Pies Porter private reserve white wine, I tore the cork out with my teeth and sat back.

The kitchen was silent, save for the chirp of crickets, the rustle of grass, the murmur of rain on shingles and brick.

I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of alcohol slip down my throat, the burn of it inside my chest and the heavy, hot feel of it within my belly.

My senses were blunted, vision unclear, head spinning. I struggled to stay upright in the chair. Hiccupping noisily I brought the chilly bottle to my mouth, feeling the ripples in the rim and tasting the wine that lingered there.

It was bitter at first, cool and biting, then searing and sweet.

Yellow rays of sunlight appeared on the table, golden blotches rolling on the smooth tabletop. Countless misshapen spots that warmed my skin where they touched.

I didn't even jump when someone touches me, a great warm hand landing on my shoulder. I considered it a moment, studied the smooth skin, long slender fingers, curved short nails.

"Sawyer."

Aunt Kristine's voice was weary, her eyes hung half closed, her blonde hair was muddled around her face. Running her fingers over her eyes, she reached down and plucked the empty wine bottle from my hands.

I watched her take it to the counter, read the label and sigh. "We've talked about this."

She spoke fluently, I knew, but in this moment it was all one word, all one elongated blurb that I could not make sense of. I swayed in my chair, teetering this way and that, unable to stay still.

Kristine touched my hair, slipped her hand under my chin, tilting my head back to get a better look at me.

I did not see her.

There was a blurb in front of me. A distortion of dark eyes and pink twisted lips, finishing with a jolt of mangled blonde hair.

She pulled me from my chair, leading me back up stairs that looked wavy and uneven. There was the loud pound of water on terracotta, the rumble of awakening pipes and the clatter of curtain hooks.

"Get cleaned up, we're going out."

&&&

"Sweet Jesus." I hissed, "Be gentle!"

Kristine laughed, pushing her large sunglasses up into her curled hair. Her eyes were vibrant, her smile radiant and wide.

We sped through town, rocking with the bends of the narrow streets. Kristine sucked white powdered sugar from her fingertips, taking another bite out of the square dough in her lap.

I was halfway under the dashboard, hands over my eyes, shielding myself from the brightness of the grey clouds. It smelt of moist pavement, of worms and the dry scent of damp air.

Somehow Kristine had managed to hit every pothole in the damn road, causing my head to spin, to throb in unreserved, relentless agony.

The sky, although unfailingly dreary was full of curls of downy grey, blindingly intense.

My eyes felt ablaze, burning in my skull. I groaned, pulling the neck of my sweatshirt up over my face.

"You were the one that went and drank up all my good wine. I was saving that for a special occasion." Kristine didn't sound angry, more exasperated, but she still smiled at me when she spoke.

I rolled my eyes, pressing my lips together, inhaling the scent of skin and clean perfume. Dad had bought it for me a few months ago – Melissa it's called.

As if she read my mind she said, "How is your Father doing?" I made a face, clenching my teeth and picking at the hem of my jeans.

"I dunno, he's…alright I guess." I shrugged a shoulder, quickly glancing over at her and then straight back out the windshield.

Kristine pursed her lips, peering up into the rear-view mirror and speeding by another car to stop at a red light. "You know, you're just like him."

I pondered just closing my eyes, maybe if she thought I'd fallen asleep she wouldn't feel the need to go on.

"Last time I checked Dad wasn't an alcoholic." Kristine laughed, but when she realized I wasn't joking her expression became hard, stern.

"You're not an alcoholic Sawyer – and you'd be surprised what trouble your Dad got into." She looked wistful, the corners of her mouth twitching upward.

Shifting in my seat I raked my fingers through my hair. "Why do you know so much about my Dad?"

Kristine looked at me carefully, her short curls bouncing when she moved. She sighed, smacking her lips together to make a popping noise.

"Nicholas always tells me stories." She grinned cutely, faint dimples showing near the corners of her mouth. "I've seen numerous pictures, you look exactly like him when he was your age."

I cleared my throat, narrowing my eyes on her. "Funny, he says I look like Mom. Never shows me pictures. Never takes me out. Sends me to a leech infested country."

Kristine lost her grin instantly. She grew very quiet, focusing assiduously on the road, as if it might disappear if she so much as blinked.

It was quiet for so long in the jeep that I began pulling at the knots in my headphones. Plugging them into my ipod and jamming them in my ears.

Kristine squeezed my knee, causing me to leap up, pausing Sid Vicious and gazing up at her through squinted eyes.

She smiled again, grazing her thumb over my cheek, combing my hair back out of my face. "Your Father loves you very much, Sawyer."

I rolled my eyes, cranking the tunes back up and closing my eyes. Head bouncing on the headrest, my hair lashed across my cheeks, I clenched my teeth to keep from cursing Kristine and her despicable driving. I could drive better than her and I didn't even have a license.

Allowing myself to lull, I lingered in the reminiscence of past events. Swerving drunk down some dirt road in Harlow's brother's convertible.

I drove, eyes closed, fingers trembling as they clutched the wheel. I liked the wind on my face, whipping through my hair, curving over my cheeks and dragging across my eyelids.

My heart was thumping so hard I thought the world could hear it. The adrenalin pumping through my veins was enough to make me breathless, I couldn't hear anything over the torrent of trouncing wind and my own rasping.

The head lights were off. Harlow, drunk out of her wits, was laughing so loudly, so riotously it was hard to focus.

It was dark, everything was dark. Trees blurred by in flickers of near-black emerald, the stars becoming one huge smudge of light above us.

The engine roared over Harlow's laughter, when I opened my eyes all I saw was the grey of the road, the glowing eyes of the night and the abyss between them.

We were reaching 200mph, I kept my foot on the gas, slowly pushing it down further and further as I closed my eyes.

Sinking into the speed, the exhilaration, I carefully slipped my fingers from the wheel…

Kristine shook my knee, I jerked out of sleep, rubbing my eyes and yanking my earphones out. She looked startled by my reaction, gradually releasing my knee and smiling nervously.

"You coming?" She asked, throwing her thumb over her shoulder to point to an old looking complex. I scowled, so that was the mall eh?

I climbed out of the jeep, trailing grouchily behind Kristine. Her spunk was seriously going to put a damper on my mood.

It was evident that she wished Stellar was born a girl. The way she babied me in the mall, despite my snap toward her made that very clear.

Kristine bought me a new duvet, sheets and pillow cases, each covered in bright orange and red stripes. We sat in the food court sipping at water bottles, I was silent, pretending to listen to her pointless hospital stories.

When we had finally left the mall the sky had grown dark, but not with the approach of nightfall. The air was moist and smelt of worms, I swore under my breath, more frigging rain – seriously?

At least my head ache was mostly gone.

I jumped at the sound of shrieking. It wasn't rain that made the sky look so black, no, it was smoke.

Kristine snatched my arm suddenly, jolting into a sprint that I could barely keep up with.

Someone bumped into me, causing me to lose my balance and fall. Pushing my hands out I just managed to catch myself, pushing up off the pavement to gaze around at the shrieking people.

Mothers shielded crying babies and terrified children, men were shouting unintelligible nonsense, barking orders back and forth. People were running all over the place in the mall parking lot, scattering like a riot had just broken out.

I tried to find Kristine in the hoard, but I couldn't see her anywhere in the mess of cars and people. Scrambling to my feet I tried to see what everybody was so worked up about, where this smoke was coming from.

Climbing into the bed of a truck I hoisted myself up onto the roof of the cab, squinting into the distance, where I could scarcely make sight of two people. Wait – was that a dog?

Someone grabbed hold of my waist and I screamed, kicking and screaming. "We have to get out of here!" It was a man, his voice cracked and shook, his breaths were sharp and hasty.

"No! No! Put me down!" I cried, prying at his fingers. He squeezed me tightly to his side as he ran, his steps were choppy and hysteric, like a chicken with it's head cut off.

He cried out abruptly, the both of us flying backward to land on the pavement. My head cracked on a hard, rubbery car tire, my vision becoming a distortion of obscure images. Like when I was driving down the road in Robert's convertible.

My heart was racing, my back aching and my head throbbing. I rolled onto my side, searching for any sign of blood, when I caught a glimpse of black fur.

Someone was shouting, crying out as if they were being torn apart, limb by limb. Frightened, I looked around, shoving my hair out of my face and gasping when I saw him – the man that had been carrying me.

His arms flailed wildly, his legs kicking up, he shrieked as he thrashed. Something was on top of him, something big, ugly and black, but I couldn't make it out.

White jaws bit into pale flesh, splattering scarlet dribbles across the asphalt. The man's cries, his pleading for mercy, became nothing but horrifying squeals.

The creature growled, I grimaced at the sound of crackling bones, the horrible rip of flesh parting with muscle and fibre. Blood spilled noiselessly around them, tainting the grey asphalt a horrific black.

The man's squabbling became no more than the twitch of fingers, ghastly gurgling and garrotting, grating rasps. Tears burned my face, dripping from my chin to make dark pools on the ground.

My body screamed for me to run, to look away, but I couldn't. I was frozen in shock, locked in the endless nightmare of this man's death.

I blinked, hiccupping over violent sobs that tore through my chest. It was clear then, the wolf, the wolf I had taken a picture of.

His white eyes were hostile, maniacal. He snarled through bared teeth, damp ebony lips curling back to reveal bright pink gums. His ears were pinned on his thick, rugged neck.

Silvery strands of drool commingled with syrupy red ooze. Blood was smeared across his muzzle, making the thin fur there look knotted and chaotic.

The wolf's teeth snapped when he looked up from the mutilated carcass below him. White eyes widening, there was almost a look of shock on it's face when it met my gaze.

Propelling myself upward I launched into a sprint, shoving through the crowd and racing around the side of the mall, to collide with a wall.

"Easy." His accent was thick, angelic.

I met the absurdly vibrant green eyes of the man from my dream. His chest was bare, showing glass smooth ivory skin, the rippling muscles that created his stomach and, the brutish curves of his stout shoulders.

His arms were sticky where I held them, wet with crimson, blood curved down from the corner of his bow-like lips. I lunged at him, fastening my arms around his shoulders as much as I could and, burying my face in his shoulder as I cried.

I felt his fingers in my hair, twisting and knotting. "I'm sorry, I'm so, very sorry Sawyer." He kept saying, his voice cracking, his accent shaking.

Coughing I looked up at him, staring into his eyes and pleading them to make what I had seen disappear. I wanted this to be another dream – just another stupid, stupid dream.

"Pl-ple-please don't leave me." I stammered, wanting to explain what had happened but to frightened to decide where to begin.

He shook his head, glimmering beads of sweat showing on his face. "Never," His mouth covered mine entirely, moving so effortlessly and so dominatingly.

When he pulled away I almost tried to yank him back, feeling him slip from my fingers just as easily as he had kissed me.

His eyes were furious, his jaw clenched. I saw him move, only a slight pivot before he vanished, a breeze knocking me back a step.

Analeigh stood before me, her hands over her mouth.


	6. Chapter Six

For starters, I just wanted to apologize cuz it took so long to update. And I found out what's wrong with my laptop...my sister spilled water on it, so it's basically dying a very slow death right now :'( so I haven't been able to update as frequently as I would like. But, no worries, I'm getting a new laptop at the end of March, for my birthday. Anyways, hope ya like the chapter!!

~Selene

* * *

Chapter 6

His mouth was warm but not smooth, his lips moved fluently but not gently. His tongue tasted like rust when it moved on mine. His fingers knotted in my hair, his other arm pressing me to him.

I touched my mouth, waiting for the feeling to like, vanish or something. I curled my fingers in my hair, but it did not feel the same.

"Who is that?" I asked for the millionth time, Analeigh just circled me in the guest room. Her topaz eyes were tapered, her lips pursed as she moved around me.

"Hristea is…" I could tell she was having a hard time wording this, like I did that time Dad had to come pick me up from the police station. Again. "Um, well, he's Undying like me to start." She nodded to herself, plopping down on the foot of my bed.

Oh c'mon! And here I thought frigging Prince Charming had come to whisk me off my feet. Talk about a major buzz kill.

I rolled my wrist, swinging my hand to prompt her on. Analeigh bit her lip apprehensively, as if I'd just asked her to frigging jump into a tank of electric eels.

"Well, do you remember when Gavril said it wasn't Dorian's bite that scared people?" I nodded and Analeigh sighed, "That's kind of because, um, well it's hard to put this gently-"

"My God!" I interrupted, "Just get on with it!"

She jumped, looking startled by my outburst. "Dorian, Emilia and Hristea are triplets right, and they control the elements like air, earth, fire-"

I butt in again, "Whoa, is this some X-men shit or what?" Analeigh snarled and I shut up, sitting down on the floor and clapping my hand over my mouth.

"So when Dorian Ascended me, some of his 'gifts,' rubbed off on me, hence the, err, locker incident. I'm still trying to control it, you see, different emotions trigger outbreaks." Analeigh's brow furrowed, her blue dress wrinkling as she crossed her legs.

I cocked a brow at her, "And his 'gifts,' would be…"

Now she smiled in admiration, "Dorian's the manifestation of fire." Analeigh's eyes were wide with recollection, her grin fading. "Emilia air and Hristea earth."

Groaning I flopped down onto the squashy carpet. "I don't get it." I peeked up at Analeigh, she kind of looked frightened about something, or like, really nervous.

"Hristea can shape shift, you know, like into a bird or cat…a wolf." That caught something, I thought of the wolf with white eyes I had taken a picture of and scrambled to my feet.

Analeigh watched me race around the side of my bed to retrieve the photograph from between my mattresses. When I handed it to her she gasped. "H-how did you get this?"

I shrugged, scratching the back of my head. "I thought it was this Eliani chick-" Analeigh clutched a handful of her hair "-but I ended up meeting up with this thing instead."

Analeigh tucked her hair behind her ears, nodding wordlessly, her mouth agape. "This is Hristea." Then she jumped. "Oh my God! I was there – I saw you, at first I wasn't sure, but this proves it."

I narrowed my eyes at her. So this chick simply follows me home one day after school and just-so-happens to see me in the bushes with a mutt. Yeah, okay.

Not creepy at all.

She sighed, bringing her crimson hair back behind her ears. "I didn't follow you." She scowled, her nose wrinkling, the freckles on her pale cheeks looking darker. "I was following Dorian, he was the one who found you two."

Analeigh's eyes widened, "It's just that…he kissed you." I wanted to kick her. It was like, the minute she mentioned the kiss my whole body became a bendy, feeble string of spaghetti. "Which, well, is extraordinarily out of character for him."

I crossed my arms over my chest, "So what, you saying he's an asshole?" He sure didn't kiss like one. Believe me, been there, done that.

Gregory Harper, that kid was all boob-grab and tongue. Not hot. It was like playing tonsil hockey with a giraffe.

Shuddering I felt a frown yank on the corners of my mouth. "Wait, wait, wait." I stared at her, "You're like Gavril's age right?" Analeigh nodded, "And Dorian is…?"

"One hundred and twenty-six." She smiled, then growled. I gawked at her, holding my jaw up to keep it from falling to the floor. "I'm sorry, I mean he's twenty…appearance wise, of course."

I gagged noisily, Analeigh's brow wrinkled, her eyes so concerning. I grunted, "So your saying they're triplets." I didn't wait for her response. "Ew! You let me kiss an old man? That's like rape – no! you were in on it – Tag-team rape!"

Analeigh cringed, pursing her lips and grumbling unintelligibly to herself. Then her eyes brightened, Analeigh studied me with a wide grin, and I shuddered.

"You creeper," I hissed. "Cut it out."

Analeigh giggled, rolling down to her back on my bed as she clapped her hands. "Oh!" She laughed, sitting back up. "I'll see you later."

My face contorted with confusion, "Wait – what?" I hurried after her as she paced towards my bedroom window. Analeigh gave me a crushing hug, the kind you would expect from a God damned abominable snowman.

I choked, spitting her hair out of my mouth as she twirled us. Did personal bubble mean anything to her?

Releasing me, she held me at arms length, hands firmly on my shoulders. "Just trust me." She winked, spinning and jumping out my window the same way she had come in.

I stared after her, hoping to catch a spark of her red hair, but nothing came. Wretched vampire.

Wrinkling my nose I glared so hard and long into the shadow of the night, my face hurt.

Analeigh's words were in my head all through supper. "Just trust me." I skewered a floppy spiral noodle, shoving it into my mouth with vengeance.

Nick and Kristine talked about how their day had gone, Kristine constantly reaching over to squeeze my arm and apologize for what had happened at the mall.

I shrugged, not all of it had been bad. Just that nasty wolf.

Funny, when it'd been with me in the bushes it didn't seem to be like that. And Analeigh had said it was Hristea, Hristea who had kissed me. But I…I couldn't – no, wouldn't – put the two together.

Why?

Because that wolf had killed the man, he'd made such a twisted, disturbing mess of him. No such act could be done by a human, let alone someone so beautiful.

But Hristea wasn't human was he…

My fork clacked against the plate as I stabbed another noodle, pushing it passed my lips and swallowing quickly, without tasting. Like it'd come back up for revenge. I stared at the plate before me, the mess of spiral pasta and warm smelling tomato sauce.

Then I blinked, and saw the horrid chest of the man from the mall. His innards spilled out across the table, a fat pink lung hanging off the edge of the table, dangling just inches above my lap, swinging like some demented pendulum.

His eyes were wide and terrified, frozen in terror. His mouth agape in a silent shriek. When I looked up the black wolf lunged at me, I threw my hands up, kicking away from the table with a yelp.

"S-Sawyer?" I peered up from the backs of my hands, gazing around the table at my aunt, uncle and cousins.

Gavril did not look surprised, slightly taken aback, but the bewilderment faded quickly. Kellen laughed, staring me down as if I was insane, and Stellar ogled at me, his phone in hand, but his fingers locked in position.

Smiling I dropped back into my chair, pulling it back up to the table. "Um," I cleared my throat. "Thought I saw a bee."

Kellen and Gavril snorted back laughter, glancing at each other with wide eyes and turning back to their dinner. I peeked over at Kristine, who was mouthing something to Uncle Nick behind her hand, I sneered.

They were probably gonna send me to a frigging asylum now. Balls.

Clenching my teeth I started moving my food around on my plate, slurping up noodles and glaring into the sauce.

"Just trust me," murmured a voice in the back of my head,I scowled. Yeah, trust a vampire, 'cause they never hurt anybody.

I ate every last bit of pasta on the plate but there was no satisfaction. No distended stomach to pat, no complimenting burps. I felt all empty and stuff.

It was the first time in three years that I thought about cutting again.

Excusing myself from the table I coasted upstairs, examining the scars on my wrists. They were fat, puckered and pink. When I ran my hand over them an anxious, maniacal voice screamed out in my head. "Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut!"

Shuddering I moved to the bathroom. The ugly brown accents and green walls made me feel like I was still in the trees. Yanking the curtain back I double checked for the black wolf.

Brushing my teeth, I gagged on the toothbrush trying to clean my tongue. Having to remind myself not to deep-throat the stupid thing. I sat in the tub for a good hour, rubbing soap over my scars like it'd wash 'em off or something.

Entering the teeny hall again, I raced to the guest room feeling claustrophobic. Screeching music bellowed from Stellar's room, tangling with the deafening heavy-metal coming from Kellen's.

I yanked the sheets over my head when I reached the room. They were cushiony and bouncy, still smelling dank from the mall. Curling up I wrapped my arms around my knees, shoving my earphones in and drowning out the crazy voice in my head.

"Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut!"

I opened my eyes, but did not see the guest room of the Cohen house. I was back home, sitting on the chilly white tiles, leaning against the door.

The shower was running as to not arouse Dad's suspicion. Our pale white tiles were covered in silver, gleaming rectangular razors. I'd gone and dropped the little box of them again.

Red ribbons slithered furiously down my forearms, dripping from my elbow and splattering to the floor, running over the grout between the tiles.

Steam from the shower clung to my face, hiding the traces of harsh tears spilling down my cheeks. I hiccupped, squeezing my eyes shut and pushing the sharp edge of the razor into my skin.

It slipped from my fingers, the quiet click, click, click of the razor chiming on the floor caught my ears over the sound of the shower.

For a moment I watched myself bleed out, woozily I pressed my finger into the series of ugly crimson puddles forming on the floor. It stuck to the pad of my fingertip, gradually sliding down into my palm.

I felt numb, my wrists didn't hurt anymore, just tingled a little. Leaning my head back against the door I closed my eyes. This feeling – this adrenaline reminded me of dance, but with the buzz of being drunk.

Why hadn't I thought of this before?

Beads of water fell from the ceiling, dripped down the walls. The shower still pounding heavily in vain.

Clenching my teeth I sucked in a deep breath, tasting humidity on the air. I wiped my hands over my face, feeling the clammy wet, a mixture of salty tears, pungent sweat and steam.

My eyelashes felt heavy. My hair felt heavy. But I felt completely wasted, like I was spilling out of my own body with every relentless slop of my blood.

There was a knock at the door but I didn't answer. It was silent for a moment on the other side, I lay down on the tiles, staring across the floor at the chaos of razors and crimson.

Here it smelt of citrus floor cleaner, a menacing overcoat of copper and salt stinging my nose and eyes.

The next knock on the door was nervous. "Sawyer honey, are you okay?" Dad's voice was hesitant, I could picture the worry creasing his smooth forehead.

I blinked, "I'm fine Daddy-" my voice was tired "-I'll be out in a minute."

As I spoke I slipped over to glance over my shoulder, by the light coming in from the hall I could still see his feet. Dad passed away, his steps slow and reluctant.

I felt weighty, like my limbs were holding me down. This was me, dying. It wasn't painful, just numbing, I remembered a drug I liked at the hospital that made me feel like this.

Made me feel empty.

There were no stomachs, no kidneys, no heart or lungs. No intestines, bones or muscles. Just a meaningless void.

Light headed, I fell asleep.

When I awoke I was alive, but I was not at home. I remembered nothing of how I had arrived here.

But I remembered talking with Dad and Mr. Long – my therapist. There would be no group home this time.

No more sunny days spent locked inside a gated lawn, cameras watching my every move. No more bedrooms built specifically to match my room at home.

Oh no, no. This time, it was an asylum.

I sat in a chair writhing in my suit. It was padded of course and white. A suicide gown.

Which, I will say, sucked. I mean, a suicide gown certainly didn't attract the boys now, did it?

The chair they had me sit in was unsettling, mainly because it was just too comfortable. The cushions fit the curves of my back perfectly, and my ass sunk into the well-worn seat easily.

The chair alone was enough to make me edgy.

Dr. Dawn raked her brown eyes over me like she hoped it would kill me, her gaze. She was scribbling in a big notepad on her desk. Her office stunk of coffee and grandma perfume.

At the base of the sheet she wrote on was the word KICKER in great, big messy letters, below that in the same scroll was written SPITTER. I smirked.

She looked at me over the rim of her hideous black glasses and grunted.

"You know you can go home if you just take them." She murmured, smiling warmly. I squinted at her, in her eyes she was just hoping I would take the frigging meds and she'd get to go home early.

My eyes wandered down her desk. Over the stacks of paper, the crystal jar of peppermint candies, her maple nametag where Dr. Jennifer Dawn was engraved in gold.

Down, down to the tiny paper cup, filled with three sky blue pills. Pills that tasted like dry shit. I wasn't depressed – I wanted to kill myself. They weren't linked.

I looked back up at her and shook my head. "If they're so damn great why don't you take 'em?"

She pointed her pen at me, "Watch your language, Ms. Cohen." Her eyes were cold, lifeless, and her tone was just short of frustration.

Dr. Dawn's cheeks sagged around her taut mouth, but she was not old. Her eyes were set deep in her head, and they were beady like a spider's. On her mouth she wore bright red lipstick and her mascara clumped disgustingly around her bleary eyes.

"Eat me." I hissed, leaning forward only to be snatched by my shoulders and yanked back against the chair. I scowled up at the tall man beside me, he did not look at me.

I'd sacked him in the hallway. I don't think he wanted to be friends anymore.

"Sawyer, we can't help you if you don't help yourself." Dr. Dawn said, crossing her hands beneath her droopy chin.

Snorting I glanced up at the man again, "Can you believe this?" I turned back to Dr. Dawn and rolled my eyes dramatically. "Do I fucking look depressed to you? Really, Jennifer, really?"

She sighed, lifting her glasses and rubbing her eyes. "I. Don't. Need. Your. Help." I was shouting now, my voice resounding in the tight room.

Dr. Dawn waved to someone, but the man beside me wouldn't let me see who it was. "You know I don't like having to do this to you, Sawyer." Her voice was exhausted.

Two unfamiliar nurses held my wrists to the arms of the chair. As I squirmed the man beside me moved, swiftly snatching up the cup and pinning my head back.

I spat in his face for the second time this morning, laughing as it dripped down his cheek and chin. He pushed the capsules into my mouth with more force than usual, choking me.

When I started kicking at Dr. Dawn's desk, he forced me to swallow, releasing my head while someone stabbed something into my shoulder.

The nurses around me began to blur as I slumped in the chair. Dr. Dawn was smiling, "See, that wasn't so bad." I gave her the finger as I was lifted from the chair.

My feet dragged over the carpet, crackling until my bare toes came in contact with the icy, unlevelled tiles of the hall.

I lulled over myself, letting them drag me back to section V – back to my cell.

When, I wondered, would they realize it was all an act? Did they not think I wanted to be injected? Fuck that, the buzz was awesome! The walls were swirling and the floor nibbled at my feet.

It was the hardest part, being hauled back to my cage, because it was then I had to try not to smile.

I fell on the floor with an "oaf!" Rubbing my eyes I sighed, looking around the guestroom. At the slouching, dusty boxes, the rectangular window where starlight poured in.

Pushing myself up I touched my wrists, the lumpy scars there. I crawled up to my feet, moving towards the mirror atop the dresser in the corner.

Jerking my fingers through my blonde hair I leaned in, examining the purple bags under my blue eyes. They were ugly eyes, ugly cobalt blue. Do you have any idea how much I stand out in the crowd of hazel eyes and sandy hair in my family?

Me, the bleach blonde one. Me, the blue eyed one. Me, the short one. Me, the ex-dancer. Me, the cutter. Me, the one they locked up for a year.

My eyes stung with hot tears, they didn't fall, just welled up and sat there at the brim. I poked at my cheeks, they were chubby cheeks, not the slender, glass smooth of my Father's.

Dad's lips were full, he had a gorgeous smile. Mine were thin, and I didn't smile.

Dad's nose was slender and elegant, probably the only thing we would ever share.

Kristine was on crack. I laughed a little, how sick would that be?

A sharp pecking noise made me jump, I peered over my shoulder at the window. And there sat a fat, jet black crow, it's white eyes small and round as it snapped it's beak against the window.

Narrowing my eyes at it I moved closer, fitting my fingers under the latch and popping it open. With a good, hard push the windowpane swung wide.

Crossing my elbows I rested them on the sill, examining the odd creature. Pursing my lips I thought about what Analeigh had told me, stretching out my hand.

The crow's jerky head moved between me and my palm. It's talons were sharp, and the pads of it's feet were rough and bumpy. It curled it's lengthy toes around my fingers while I brought it in and closed the window.

Lifting my hand I ran my palm over it's feathers. I'd expected them to be soft and downy, but they were the exact opposite. The crow's feathers were cold, ruffled and slick.

It turned it's face into my fingers, closing it's white eyes and squawking faintly. I chewed my cheek thoughtfully, sitting back on the edge of my bed.

"I know it's you." I whispered, watching it's white eyes widen slightly. The crow stretched out it's wings, dancing on my palm as it jumped into flight.

Looking from the corners of my eyes, the crow dropped to the carpet, falling to it's side as if I'd gone and shot it.

It's beak snapped outward in a disturbing smile, until it broke open, showing lengthy fangs. The crow's head suddenly began balding, shedding clumps of feathers at a time.

My fingers twisted in the duvet as I scampered back on my butt. It's eyes shot wide, too big for it's skull, a frightening squeal seeped out from it's demented beak.

Black feathers moulted to the carpet, the bird was naked now, snow white skin showing in the dark of my room. It's wings tore apart to accommodate five large fingers. It's back snapped and popped, a spine far too long for it's body taking shape.

Covering my eyes with my hands, I heard the contorted wails turn to muffled groans.

New bones crackled into place while others burst outward. I saw through the holes of my fingers, a ribcage protruding from it's chest, the white of the bone showing through ivory skin.

The booming sound of my heart beat smothered out the creature's moans, the snap of it's bones and the rip of it's flesh. Hands pulled my palms away from my face.

He was sweaty, and his skin was rippling, stretching to adjust to this new body. His incredibly green eyes shone like two separate suns in the night.

Ominous shadows curved over his chest, beneath his chin, and over his face. Rolling rock shoulders and flexing his fingers around mine, Hristea smiled.

"Good evening, Sawyer."


	7. Chapter Seven

Okay, I know, what the hell! I'm sorry, sorry SORRY that it took so long I seriously had to duke it out with my God damned laptop to get this chapter, but there's only eleven more days to go! Then I get my new laptop YAY!!! lol, okay, here's the chapter and thanks so much guys for baring with me, I hope I didn't cause too much frustration.

OH! And just to clear up any questions, yeah, there will be lots of flash backs for Sawyer, but I am going to explain it all in Chapter 8....which I'm finishing as I type now :3

~Selene

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Chapter 7

"So, you shape shift?" I marvelled, watching him carefully. My stomach knotted, unable to get these damned butterflies to quit flying around.

Hristea nodded, his brows arching when I snorted. "Yeah, well, I can do a handstand for ten minutes without passing out." His lips began to fidget restlessly, warring with a smile.

He didn't look 126. He's a vampire, I thought. He's not supposed to look old. I cringed, Hristea was like, way old though. Like 112 years older than me – and I kissed him!

"Analeigh told me." I murmured, ignoring my heaving stomach, to study his irritated expression. "What? You don't like her?"

Hristea shook his head, leaning back to lay down. He looked so awkward there, someone so beautiful shouldn't be laying there, on my red and orange bedding.

"No, t'is not that, Analeigh is my kin but…she makes him weak." Hristea's eyes narrowed, I could see the annoyance in the hardening of his luminous eyes. He tucked his hands beneath his head, his arms flexing.

Trying not to ogle I pursed my lips, "M-makes who weak?" I questioned, pushing him onward.

Hristea's lips twitched, his green eyes fixating on me with a speed that made my heart skip. I clenched my teeth, breath hitching on my tongue as we stared each other down.

I didn't want to be the first to look away, but with the intensity of his abnormal eyes, and the mixture of butterflies, I had to. Hristea chuckled lowly.

"Dorian, my brother." His voice lost the smugness instantly. "He was not always what he is now," He smiled nostalgically. "After he found her, he changed. T'is why Emilia is so angry with him."

"Your sister?" I murmured, Hristea nodded. I cocked a brow at him in silent question and he sighed.

Hristea shuffled, studying my face carefully, lifting his hand to take hold of my hair. I shivered as he twisted the messy layers between his fingers.

He wasn't even touching me and I thought I was going to start retching up butterflies. I cringed.

"Yes, they were lovers once, Dorian and Emilia-" he grinned when I gagged "-she could have anyone she desires and yet she pursues him in vain. It's quite comical actually, she has been striving to deprogram him for years – trying to turn him back to the greedy, lustful, destructive monster he once was."

Hristea sounded relaxed, amused, his eyes half lidded and nonchalant. Funny, the way Hristea spoke of Dorian was the way Analeigh spoke of him.

"I suppose," Hristea nodded as if he had read my thoughts. "Before her, Dorian used to be like me. Analeigh is right to advise you though." He smirked fiendishly. "I'm not quite nice, like him." When Hristea said this a forked tongue snuck passed his lips and I yelped.

His wide, vivid eyes watched me carefully, taking in my every movement. It made my skin crawl the way he would stare, taking me in fully in a single glance.

"I don't think you're like that." I said quietly, Hristea snorted.

"You've not yet known me long enough." He laughed, I caught something sinister in his voice. Sucking in my lips I felt my nose wrinkle.

I wonder what Aunt Kristine would do if she walked in on us right now. I grinned, playing the scene out in my head:

"Gah!" She would gasp, Hristea wouldn't so much as blink.

I'd wave, "Oh, hey, Kristine." I'd say, "What's poppin'?"

Peering back down at Hristea, I hurried my eyes away, he was still watching me. I became acutely aware of his gaze, feeling it as if it was a hot laser whooshing over my skin.

"You're sick." He spoke quickly, not saying this as a question. I glanced down at him and flickered my eyes away, staring at the wall as I nodded.

I didn't hear him sitting up, rather felt his icy breath on my neck. Panic rose in my stomach when he leaned in, clenching my teeth I closed my eyes tightly.

Jumping up, I felt his lips press to my pulse, a raspy breath evading me at the feel of a forked tongue swivelling over my skin. "I could make that go away."

Sneering I leaned away, if he took it away that would mean no more drugs, no more anaesthetics to make my head spin. When I opened my eyes I was surprised by his closeness, I found myself leaning in, just to snatch myself back.

"Ugh! Why do you have to be so old?" I groaned, kicking my feet up in frustration, Hristea's green eyes widened a moment, then he laughed.

"Age is but a number, Sawyer." He murmured, his lips curving up to suit a devious smirk. His big hand rose to knot in my hair, pulling me in again. "Why must you be so young?"

Hristea came toward me and I squealed, pushing him away. "Ew! You're – you're like my frigging grandpa!" A queasy feeling bubbled up in my gut, clawing at the walls of my stomach and gobbling up all the irritating butterflies.

He pressed my forehead to his, his expression impatient, his intense eyes all angry. "You fear my age more than the creature that I am?" The question was rhe – what's that word I can't pronounce? – rhetorical!

I grunted, "I'm not scared. I'm not afraid of anything." Hristea's lips twitched, wild green eyes narrowing. I hated that I couldn't read them, couldn't read them like I could read Dr. Dawn's. She was so typical.

Hristea was…random.

And I'm like, well, not to brag – but I'm pretty awesome about reading people. I mean, I figured out Eliani was a total bitch at a glance – it's the way she walks, you know, like her butt's trying to run the other way.

Or even Uncle Nick well, actually, he's really easy. Just the opposite of Dad like, not secretive, fun, cool to hang out with, doesn't nag or hover.

"How did you know I like orchids?" I didn't mean to sound so demanding, it was just the way he looked at me – like he was waiting for my head to explode.

Hristea smiled, I tried to find the shift in his eyes as soon as they parted with mine. Where something new would happen, like, they would relax or draw back the curtain.

"I read it." He shrugged, his think brown lashes curled downward as he gazed away from me.

I sneered, "Like in a book?" How awkward would that be? Something like: "All about Sawyer," creepy much. All my teachers would totally know all my tricks – that's cheating!

But, fortunately, he shook his head. "I read it from your thoughts, your dreams." He waited for the bomb to land and I gawked at him.

"You can read my mind?" Oh, balls, how bloody embarrassing is that? Not cool. Hristea chuckled as he nodded and I looked at him from the corners of my eyes.

"What am I thinking about right now?" He met my gaze and completely altered my train of thought.

Hristea snorted, "My eyes." I damned the searing blush that swept over my cheeks to the fiery pits of hell. "You would like to know what I'm thinking."

I growled, "Okay, get out."

Nodding a fraction his eyes tapered and I had a feeling he was pushing me away without ever laying a hand on me. I didn't like it.

"You killed that man." My voice had suddenly become hostile, he glowered blackly at me for a minute, a muscle in his jaw flexing restlessly.

Then, completely unfazed, he shrugged. "I've killed many. Maimed hundreds. Slaughtered thousands. Humans, so urgent, so emotional. As if everything must be done in a method which is both immediate, and satisfying yet in doing so you forget to savour what is around you."

I balled my hands into fists, until my knuckles were white, clenching my teeth together.

Hristea noted my expression with a sadistic grin. "What is but a man in a sea of millions? A single grain of sand in a beach?" Another rhetorical question. "Exactly that: Dirt."

Reeling my arm back I put all my weight into my fist. Watching his head tilt back, listening as his teeth clicked. I dug my knuckles into the smooth skin beneath his chin.

His chest moved in a sigh, Hristea easily brought his chin down, as my whole arm trembled. He smiled at me, blinking once. Twice.

"You're beautiful when you're angry." I saw the glimmer off his fangs in the dark, yanking my arm back to my side.

Despite my pushing, he pulled me in, roughly slanting his mouth over mine. I sunk my teeth into his lip, scratching his chest until he released me, smirking.

I was so angry, but I couldn't think of anything to do. I wanted to hit him so badly – but it wouldn't do anything! Clenching my teeth I glared at his fanged smirk.

"Don't act as if you did not enjoy that," I opened my mouth to contradict him when he tapped his temple. "I can read you."

He was gone then, vanished like he'd never ever been there. The window didn't open or close he just…disappeared.

I punched my bed, jumping to my feet and crossing the room, I snatched up the colourful ceramic jar Harlow had made me in grade three. Running my finger over the lumpy, smooth sides I threw it across the room.

It smashed against the wall instantly, hundreds of teeny red, blue and purple shards flew everywhere. The gum I hid in there bouncing all over the carpet.

Gnashing my teeth together I bit into my lip until it started to bleed. Whirling around I picked up the ugly brown lamp on the edge of the dresser. I aimed it at the wall jerking my arm back when Dad's voice erupted in my head:

"Sawyer! What're you doing?" He was hysteric.

I moaned, slouching to the floor, letting the lamp land awkwardly on the carpet. The oddly shaped shade twisted before it snapped off, the light bulb inside popped out, a series of red and blue wiry entrails spilling out.

Falling onto my stomach I rolled to my side, bringing my knees to my chest and clutching them there. "I don't know." I sobbed, "I want to go home!"

&&&

Gasping, I coughed up a mouthful of water. My teeth were chattering together so hard I thought they'd break each other. Blinking, I clutched the arms of the chair, digging my nails deep into the rusted metal.

Shivering I glowered at Dr. Harbour and Dr. Dawn. Dr. Harbour stood with his fingers resting on a panel covered with colourful buttons.

His thin turtle-like lips curved up in a demented smirk. Dr. Harbour's hair was forever the colour of milk, covering everything but the ugly, glossy top of his head. There, were five brown spots, each sprouting thin white hairs.

Dr. Dawn wore her purple heels, the fat of her ankles hanging over the sides. A tight grey pencil skirt covered her knees, running to where her bellybutton would be. She wore a frilly, stupid purple blouse that reminded me of a clown.

She crossed her arms, pushed her glasses up and cleared her throat. I could barely hear her over the noise my teeth were making, the ever loud drip drop of water dribbling from my chair.

My hair clung to my cheeks, neck and shoulders. The white suicide gown I hated had long been soaked through, the pads were heavy and cold, glued to my flesh.

It was hard to breathe, and I felt so tired.

"Now, are you ready to apologize?" Dr. Dawn asked, her voice disturbingly calm. Blinking drowsily I gazed at Dr. Harbour, how the scrawny, arthritic old man hunched over himself, the hump in his back easily seen through his grey doctor's uniform.

The left side of his face and nose were masked by bandages, I could still see the blood seeping through.

I'd kicked him. Again.

Shaking my head, I heard Dr. Dawn sigh, she pivoted on the narrow heel of her shoes and nodded at Dr. Harbour.

The chair groaned before it began to gradually creak back, I struggled against the black straps pinning my wrists, my ankles. I listened to the faint splish of the chair submerging. Screamed when the icy water touched my back, took me by my gown and wrenched me under.

There was silence here, a deathly quiet. I could see the clear blue chunks of broken ice above me, saw them swirl as the bubbles rising from my lips reached for them.

My hair swept over my face, whirling as I screamed. Quickly my lungs went dry then froze, filling with wintry water. The heat of tears scaled my face, when the waters became black…

Jerking up, my hands flung to my chest, grasping for my lungs through my clothes.

"Good to see you back with us, Miss Cohen." The substitute, Mr. Augustin intoned dryly. He snapped a meter stick at the black board pointing to the words Macbeth.

Blowing out a lungful I smirked, talk about your lucky breaks. Mr. Augustin eyed me sinisterly, "Perhaps you could tell us what a symbol from Macbeth is, Miss Cohen?"

"Blood." I blurted, the class muffling their laughter. "It's…um, metaphoric and literal. Blood, like, you know, the betrayal and corruption and all. But it also symbolizes the actual murders that happen throughout the whole play."

Mr. Augustin grimaced a little, his black moustache jumping awkwardly above his mouth. "For someone that doesn't read," He muttered, "You're, um, somewhat correct."

I rolled my eyes, dropping my head onto my binder. Mr. Augustin went on and on about an assignment we'd be getting sometime.

Tuning him out I plugged my ear buds in, and closed my eyes. I didn't want to sleep, too nervous that the horrors of Black Wood Asylum would creep up on me again.

I tried not to look too happy when English was over, Gavril met me outside the classroom door, opening his big mouth before pausing and narrowing his hazel eyes.

"You…alright?" He asked timidly his voice was low, concerned. Tilting my head, I nodded slowly, wondering if Dad had said anything about my…past to Aunt Kristine that may have leaked unto this big bundle of useless knowledge.

I followed behind him in a daze, trying to catch my breath. It'd been two years since I'd gotten out of Black Wood, two years since that nightmare.

We called it The Bucket. Not really a sinister name, is it? But the hell with it, right?

The Bucket was a big metal chair all glued and nailed and welded to shit to make it stay, but it had a bunch of straps that felt like leather but I don't think they were.

When Dr. Harbour pushed one of his big fancy buttons the chair would rock backward, down, down, down into this massive square pool. I was told it used to be a hot tub or something, but that is totally bogus – I've been in The Bucket enough to know that think inside out and backwards.

See, the "hot tub," is filled with ice water and every night they freeze it over then break the ice on top so it's fresh and stuff. It was used back in like the….um, 18 hundreds or something on crazy people.

Black Wood kept The Bucket a secret, nobody talked about it, and everyone was too scared to say anything to the warden. I think he knew.

I never told anybody what happened to me in Black Wood, not even Dad – he probably wouldn't believe me anyways. It didn't matter now, I was never going back. Ever.

It didn't leave me with any serious scars. I mean, I don't like bathtubs. Or pools. Or, well, water for that matter. Kind of have an irrational fear of ice, which makes winter a major bitch.

"So, my Mom was saying that you had a, um, bad dream last night?" Gavril was fighting off a smirk as he said this, the both of us pushing through the halls, fighting to get outside.

I didn't answer until we made it to the bleachers, plopped our fat asses down on the wet grass and, leaned against the thousand-year-old rusted metal holding it up.

"Yeah, you could say that." I nodded, digging around in my backpack until I found the little packet I was looking for. Gavril cracked the tab on a Dr. Pepper, bringing it to his lips and taking a long gulp, his Adam's apple jerking up and down.

I drew back the cardboard lid, peeled back the tinfoil and extracted a long, slender white stick. Gavril choked on his pop, "Hey! Those are mine."

Turning I stretched to retrieve the silver Zippo lighter from my butt pocket. Carefully flicking the lid and burning the end of the stick until it began to belch out clouds of smoke.

Sucking in deeply I blew a large, wispy blue-grey cloud of smoke into his face. Gavril scowled, closing his eyes tightly and slinking back into himself.

"Not right now they're not." I breathed, closing the package and handing it back to him. I could feel it burn in my mouth, curl along the back of my throat and eat away my gums. My lungs cried out from inside me, and I held the cloud in longer, closing my eyes as it devoured me.

Gavril exhaled grouchily, "Give me that." He flexed his gawky, lengthy fingers at me. I snorted, blowing out through my nose and tapping the ash off the end. "Right now," He added.

"You're serious aren't you?" I looked at him from the corners of my eyes, blinking slowly and taking another drag. I held the smoke in my mouth, examining the ugly, white cigarette between my fingers.

Gavril nodded curtly, inclining himself toward me impatiently. I blew out the knot of death and slipped the cigarette into his hand. Speedily Gavril drove it into the ground, crushing it into the dirt, stomping on it until it wasn't a snowy white.

"I'm quitting." He announced, not looking at me. He brought the pop can back to his lips and took another long sip. "Analeigh can't stand the smoke."

I groaned, "Damn, can't you just like kiss her or something and get it over with?"

Gavril looked at me sharply. "I've kissed her before," He smirked. "But…things are different now, she's getting married." Gavril's smile was smothered, he cupped his face solemnly, moaning into his disproportional palms. "He's going to make her into a monster."

"Dorian?" I asked, Gavril made a face that was something of a grimace, his mouth becoming a tight line as he flinched back. It was like I'd chucked a fire ball at him. Which, ya know, would've been great if I didn't feel so sad for him, and that, in itself was just…weird.

"Look, I'd rather not talk about it." He said, raking his awkward fingers through his sandy hair. "Point is: I'm quitting."

I scowled, so no more sneaking cigarettes out of the stash beside his computer then. I rolled my eyes, thank God for Kellen.

He looked so agitated I actually felt a little sad for him. Ya know, like way, way, way the hell down by my feet. "I saw her the other day." I murmured, jerking a handful of grass out, laying the green blades on my pants.

Gavril stiffened. I half expected him to shake me or something, British nanny style. Pursing my lips I knotted the grass and twisted them until they resembled my favourite kind of grass.

"What-what you…you saw her? What do you mean?" He snatched my shoulders, "Like you maybe glimpsed her by chance, or she-"

I cut the blond chattering monkey off before I got bored and changed my mind about all this.

"No, well, the day at the mall when we ran into the vamps, I…" Damn it, how could I do this and leave Hristea – that asshole – out of the equation?

I bit my lip, gazing up from the make-shift weed and stared him in the eyes. Gavril was glaring at me, the right corner of his mouth twitching while his fingers bit into my shoulders.

He looked the way I figured a caveman would if I blew out his fire.

"Nah, she was in my room, she kind of…hid in the backseat of the jeep until we got home." I shrugged, "You're Mom was freaking out so she didn't see her."

Gavril blinked once, twice, and then sighed. He jerked his fingers through his sandy halo of hair, his hazel eyes narrowed on the grass. "I guess I should get used to not seeing her, huh?"


	8. Chapter Eight

Sorry for the wait, I was ready to post it after chapter seven but I had to go back and make some changes, thanks for baring with me guys. I hope ya like the chapter :)

Ps. There's a new poll on my profile, I have ALOT of ideas lol and I just wanted another opinion on what I should work on next, so if anybody wants to vote or leave me a pm that's awesome. thanks so much guys.

~Selene

* * *

Chapter 8

It felt like months since I'd talked to Hristea and Analeigh, when I knew it'd been only a few weeks. Not that I missed either of them, I mean, why should I?

Things were just extremely boring lately. Get up, bathe, school, fight with Eliani, walk home, eat, bathe, sleep. The routine seemed endless.

Dad called once, it wasn't anything special, just to ask what'd I'd been up to, if I was giving Kristine and Nick a hassle. Uncle Nick told him about my hospital episode, but not about the whole Vodka and wine joy rides I'd been having.

Not like Dad would've been surprised or anything. At least I hadn't been arrested. Yet.

Combing my hair I knotted it up in my bun atop my head, it stunk of the watermelon-kiwi shampoo Kristine had bought me. Pulling the strings on my pyjama pants, I yanked the purple Campus Crew sweater I'd stolen from Harlow over my head.

Pacing down the hall, I paused, hand fastened around the guestroom doorknob. I always closed this door. Cussing under my breath I pushed it the rest of the way open, ready to face Aunt Kristine.

Instead I was met by a biting cold breeze, the heavy, wormy scent of rain and billowing curtains. Slamming the door behind me I lazily crossed the floor, pushed the windowpane down and locked the latch.

With a yawn I turned, clapping my hand over my mouth to muffle a scream as I came face-to-chest with Hristea. His thick arms firmly crossed over his broad chest, his ridiculously green eyes cast down on me.

"Jesus!" I coughed, staggering back a step. "You're so quiet." Hand at my throat, I inhaled a few slow times to gather my scattered self again.

Hristea blinked leisurely, his large arms flexing when he exhaled. Reaching out I pulled the curtains shut, rubbing my eyes as I moved to turn on the slanted brown lamp and shut the big over-hanging light off.

"What do you want, I really don't have any interest in you right now." I muttered through my teeth, dropping down on the edge of my bed.

My stomach ached, but I couldn't tell if it was those irritating butterflies again, or the niggling agitation that came with his presence.

He looked at me once over his rock-like shoulder, I could see the curve in his rough features that indicated his smirk.

"Then get interested." Hristea's voice wasn't smooth, but it was no where near gravely and dark either. It made my stomach hurt more.

I could feel my eyes tapering. It annoyed me to levels I kinda found surprising, him telling me what to do and stuff. Nothing like the cops back home though, that's for sure.

"Analeigh's eighteenth birthday will be taking place Monday evening." Hristea pivoted on the balls of his feet. I wondered if he knew how totally messed up it was for someone so massive to move like a frigging ballerina.

I shrugged, "Yeah. And?" I spoke to my fingernails, picking away at the awkward, fading blotches of violet nail polish that lingered there. "I'm not her bestie or anything, I'm not looking for a hot pink invite with glittery letters. How old do you think I am?"

Hristea snorted. "Are you so antagonistic because you're frightened, or is it that you have no other defence mechanism?" He paused to run a meaty palm over his cropped locks.

I clenched my teeth, balling my fingers into tight fists and kept my breath locked in my chest. I could feel his eyes as they studied my face.

He chuckled, showing his fangs before he pivoted back to stare into the chocolate brown curtains. "Analeigh isn't inviting you. She has been larking about, which usually means she is up to something." He rolled his shoulders and I could see, through his black t-shirt, the surging of his muscles.

"You're going to be present at her Bereavement that evening, and I am going to escort you." Hristea did nothing to hide the amusement in his tone.

The muscles in my jaw tensed then began to throb painfully. I rolled over onto my hands and knees, crawling across the bed to kick back the sheets.

"I'm not doing anything with you, now get out." I stretched out beneath the cool duvet. "And turn the lamp off on your way out."

Bringing my knees to my chest I firmly wrapped my arms around them. Burying my face in the soft, lumpy fabric of my pyjama pants I squeezed my eyes shut.

"What is Black Wood?" Hristea's mouth moved against my shoulder. With a yelp I jumped clean out of the sheets, landing with a heavy thud on the floor.

My heart slammed against my ribs, and for an instant I actually worried about hurting myself. A small giggle rose to my lips at the thought, carefully, I rose to my feet running my hand over my face.

"I told you to get out." I hissed, waiting for my eyes to adjust to this new darkness. Hristea's eyes gleamed bright as day, as vivid and perfect as the sun. Even his eyes pissed me off. "Now."

He sighed irately. "You're trying my patience."

I grunted, "Oh! Am I really? Wow, I'm sorry you royal jack ass, didn't mean to try your patience." I lowered my voice near the end to mimic him. Hristea chortled, his brilliant eyes widening slightly while he laughed.

"You forget, my Sawyer…" He murmured, my eyelids felt weighty, as if they were gradually being pushed down. I struggled against them to no avail, soon my body felt the same, sickly and weak as if I was being smothered by sleep.

The feel of warm, comfortable bedding and smooth sheets coiled around my very being. I felt myself sway backward, heard the mumble of Hristea's hands capturing mine.

"That I am vampyre."

It was quiet where I was now, in darkness. For the most part...

There was a quiet squeak and something that sounded like a wild animal growling. Deafly I heard faint whispers, whispers that grew into abrupt, echoing voices.

"Emilia!" Hey! I know that voice! "Be quiet, don't wake her."

Someone snorted haughtily, "Oh please." Then came the resonant crack of high heels on hardwood. It reminded me of the nights when Mother dressed her age and Dad took her us out for dinner.

"Why do you think he brought her here?" Damn it, who was that. I know that voice – I'm sure of it, but who?

I could feel their voices against my skin, smelt the sweet, crisp scent of fresh fabric. I could hear the quiet gossiping of satin against flesh, my skin tingling as a cool breath fluttered on my throat.

"Do you think he's going to kill her?" I winced, catching the sudden anticipation in the woman's voice.

And what a voice! You know, kinda like the flashy, confident voices of Cover Girl models on TV. But this chick had some serious bite to her tone; nothing about that underlying humour seemed inviting…or humane for that matter.

"No!" Another girl snapped, she almost sounded offended. "Absolutely not, you-you shouldn't even think stuff like that Em-"

"Would you hush up?" The other woman interrupted, her tone nearing a snarl. "Why I so much as considered bringing you along is beyond me."

I waited another moment, counting the seconds of silence before I opened my eyes. Analeigh loomed over me, another woman with lengthy near-black brown hair stood behind her, her arms snaked around one of the tall, glimmering wooden posts of the four-poster bed.

Her eyes I immediately placed as Hristea's, only her face was oval and elegant. Not at all the coarse, volatile features Hristea had. She made me think of a panther.

Clenching my teeth, I sat up to face them. "What the fuck?" I growled. "Where am I?"

Analeigh cringed while the other woman – Emilia or whoever – burst out laughing. She released the post to clap her hands, "You cannot be serious!" She cackled. "This is fantastic."

I glowered at her, kicking my feet off the side of the bed, ignoring Analeigh's helping hands. I took one step and screamed, both Analeigh and Emilia covering their ears.

Grabbing a handful of the slim dress I wore I stomped my foot. "No!" I glared blackly over my shoulder at Analeigh, who looked so frightened it was like she'd seen a ghost or something. "Hell no! Where are my pyjamas?"

The dress was smooth and slender and strapless. it was completely white and fanned out a few inches above my knees, with the exception of the train that trailed along behind me.

Leaning over I plucked my tall black stockings, keeping my hand firmly over my lips to keep myself from screeching. "Umpf," was the muffled cry that seeped through the cracks in my fingers.

"Sawyer," Analeigh finally had the guts to say. I closed my eyes shaking my head, hoping that when I opened my eyes the dress would be gone. "You really do look beautiful." Her voice was timid and honest.

When I looked again, nothing had changed.

"Take me home." I demanded, looking up at her, about to lunge when two men walked in. My eyes shot across the vast and destroyed room to the massive doorway where they stood.

Hristea held his arms tightly crossed over his bared chest, teeth bared. I knew the man beside him as soon as I saw him, the man from my dream – Dorian. He looked very feline, like Emilia, beside his hulking brother.

Dorian lifted a hand to place it sternly on Hristea's shoulder, with his free hand he curled a long finger at Emilia and Analeigh. "Come here." It was such a simple sentence, but they both went sprinting at a speed I couldn't even glimpse.

Hristea growled, jerking towards them the way a cobra would on Animal Planet. The two of them made such a loud squealing noise that my ears popped, while they quickly ducked into Dorian's open arms.

And all this, mind you, happened within four and-a-half seconds. The doors closed behind the three of them, locking out Emilia's mocking laughter.

Hristea studied me for all of two seconds, his expression one of sheer outrage as he paced the room. It was large and gothic, kinda like this way emo party Harlow and I went to one time, only scarier.

The deep, blue-black drapes that hung around the long arched window were dusty and shredded – but not so by age. There was a long wooden table in the corner, of the same glistening chestnut as the bed frame. But the surface of it was all scored as if some dog used the thing as a treadmill.

Above the table was a huge mirror that reflected half the room in a single pane. Although, it showed the bedroom in eight different angles, it was shattered almost like somebody threw a chair at it.

The floor was all a very dark hardwood that, if it wasn't for all the claw markings, would have shown the mirror image of everything in the room. The etching in it ran white like bone, even though the top was almost black.

When I turned it looked there was a solid navy canopy over the bed, but it was in the same ragged condition as the drapes.

There was a great big fireplace across the room, made up of pale grey stones that seemed sweet and innocent compared to the rest of the place. Soot and charcoal remnants filled the thing, a jet black tongue in a gaping mouth.

On the mantle above the fireplace rested stack after stack of dusty, grimy books, that had long since tumbled over each other or been worn down to yellow pages and spines, that were impossible to read.

All in all, the whole place was a gigantic shit hole.

"Take me home." I ordered through gritted teeth. "Take me home right now." Hristea didn't give me so much as an upward glance as he moved about the room.

I watched him collect messy piles of ripped clothes and ruined shoes for a few moments. Storming towards him I gave his big rock shoulder a good hard push.

Hristea snarled, taking a snap at my hand that scared me so much I nearly fell over. His eyes became milky and sinister. They reminded me of an average morning in Transylvania – wrathful clouds that could gobble up the sun.

"I'm not a doll!" I shouted, "You can't just kidnap me and dress me up like some Barbie."

His white eyes met mine with a force that made the air in my lungs evaporate. "On the contrary." He intoned, furious. "I can."

He made me so angry!

Ugh! I wanted to scream or something – no, screw that, I wanted to beat the hell out of him. Gnashing my teeth together I stomped around him in the direction of the great, black doors Emilia, Dorian and, Analeigh had gone through.

I'd made it so far as a step outside before a bulky, unrelenting arm wound around my waist. Gripping the door frame I flailed out my legs, thrashing in his grasp.

My butt made contact first, and I bounced on the hard floor, groaning as I slid back inside the room. I flopped onto my side, rubbing my poor, throbbing tailbone.

Talk about your crash landings.

I sniffled.

Oh – no, no, no, no! I'm not crying, not here, not ever. I don't cry in public. Crying is just about the ugliest thing anyone could ever witness, the weakest, most pitiful thing imaginable.

Willing my eyes to stop burning I scrubbed at them, glowering at the towering, hazy ivory monster standing before me.

My nose began to tingle, my face feeling hot and tender. I could feel the sudden dryness of my throat as I hiccupped, my tongue flailing behind my lips.

"Don't you dare." Hristea hissed, his threat was drowned out by the insistent sobs knotting in my throat, demanding an exit.

Long, blonde wisps of hair clung anxiously to my quivering bottom lip, as if hoping they could keep it still. "I-I-I hate you!" I howled, and there they were: the defiant, humiliating water works.

His huge hands were on me now, drawing me up to my feet, I slapped at them. "Don't!" I yelled, barely hearing my own echo. I backed away from him, hurriedly wiping the mess of salty tears from my chin. "Happy now?"

"Sawyer." Was that concern? Actual concern in a vampire's voice? Right, and I thought I was a good actor. "I shouldn't have….I'm sorry." He choked on the last bit, like the words had never come out of his mouth before.

I squirmed uncomfortably when he wound his arms around me. Hugs. I cringed. I'm not a big fan of…hugs.

Shaking my head I put him away from me, "It's too late for that now." I inhaled deeply to get it all out of my system, tightly closing my eyes until my eyelashes were crushed by the fat rolls of skin.

My lungs were sore and my throat was raw, I could still feel my nose tingling faintly, forcing me to sniffle even more. When I looked at him he looked extremely worried, as if I'd threatened to punt a baby or something crazy.

Wiping my nose I made a face at him, "What's your damage?" Hristea's expression changed quickly, like it got harder or something.

In his eyes I thought I saw this kind of "mixed-emotions," thing Harlow told me about one time. Like your mind's telling you one thing, and your stomach's telling you another. Or was it heart not stomach? Whatever.

Hristea shook his head, when he lifted his hands I flinched. His brow creased slightly at my reaction, Hristea's green eyes tapering. His palms were warm when they touched my face, they were coarse and hard like the bottoms of a dog's paws.

His thumbs scraped the stinging skin under my eyes, brushing away my tears. His whole hand seemed to swallow the entire half of my face.

"Better?" I could have sworn his voice shook, but before I could be sure his thick, layered accent suffocated the hesitation completely. I nodded and the corner of his lip twitched softly, preparing for a smile.

I sighed, swinging my leg back and launching my knee upward. Hristea's hand caught me before my knee struck it's target, I didn't see him move at all.

And then my back was slamming into his chest with a force that stole the wind from my lungs. He pinned my arms crossed over my chest, restraining them in a straightjacket-style hold.

"That would not have been pleasant." His voice was gruff, winded, his chin resting against my head, keeping it at a slight angle. My throat felt bare, helpless.

I snorted, jerking hard against his grasp. He waited until I was wheezing and my wrists were burning from chafing against his hands, before saying any more.

"And I would not have been happy." Hristea's voice held in it more ferocity than I was okay with.

Yanking against him one last time, I started thinking of other, easier means of escape. "So," I panted. "Is this when you bite me?" At least then I'd be going out the way I planned.

It's not very often you reach the after life and can say you got off on death. Or is it? Make a good conversation, I think.

Hristea chuckled. "No, you'd not be very yummy with this illness of yours." He said this smoothly, thoughtlessly.

I hung my head, staring at the blonde hairs before me while they swayed. "Balls, that really kind of wrecks my scheme." Hristea squeezed my wrists, releasing one to twirl me away; I stumbled noisily before he wrenched me back against him.

Lips pressed against my forehead, I felt the teeny hairs along my hairline tremble as he breathed out. "Tell me what Black Wood is."

I cringed at the thought, "You can read me, you should already know." Now I was irritated again, that he could do that, ya know, break into my head and stuff.

Like invisible lobotomy. Not as painful though – that shits gatta kill!

Hristea smirked on my forehead. "I'm trying not to, since it bothers you so." I rolled my eyes, he talks so weird.

It surprised me a little how hard it was to talk about Black Wood. I mean, it happened two years ago. I should be over it, right?

Taking a deep breath in I closed my eyes. "I got locked up for a year, no big deal. Black Wood's an asylum for mentally disturbed teens."

Hristea laughed, loud enough that it resounded heavily in the room. The sound made me jump a little. "Why?" He leaned away to look at me fully, his voice still retained this humour that made my stomach spin.

"Well, I was put in a group home for three months after my baby sister died. And then I kind of…" My mouth was suddenly dry, my palms got all wet and gross. What the hell was wrong with me?

Hristea waited for me to continue, but the way he was looking at me made me feel real dizzy in my head. "Stop." I growled, tearing my eyes away from his to glower at my stockings. I'm going to get out of this dress if it's the last thing I ever do.

"Stop what?" He lifted my face with his index finger, I could feel myself reeling back when I realized how close we'd got.

It took me a moment to remember what I was talking about again, my skin felt hot and tingly. I couldn't think of a moment when I'd felt so clammy and prickly before.

I narrowed my eyes, wiggling my toes. "That thing you're doing, making me buzz all over the place."

Hristea smirked, pulling his fingers through my hair. "That wouldn't be my doing." He looked devious, something about the glint in his impossible eyes made my heart jump awkwardly.

"Then you kind of got…" Hristea murmured, lifting a slender brown brow at me, picking up my sentence again. I gnashed my teeth together.

"I don't know – just got fed up." Hristea gazed away from me a moment, his forehead creasing like Dad's did when he was frustrated with me. "With my parents, school…being sick."

Maybe it wasn't butterflies, I mean, since when do I spill my guts to old, dead, million-year-old guys? The thought made me want to be sick, hastily I peeled Hristea's fingers off and put myself away from him.

Clearing my throat I ran my hands down the length of my sides. The inside of the dress was smooth and snug on me, which was extremely awkward. Normal clothes never brought this kind of weirdness.

"I want my jammies back and I want to go home." I raked my fingers through my hair, wrenching at the knots that came with un-brushed, temperamental, showered-however-may-hours-ago, typical Cohen family glory.

Hristea's jaw set to work. Okay, we were a little bit beyond frustration now. Pursing my lips I carefully slunk back a few hopefully unnoticeable steps.

"So I started the whole slitting my wrists trip – blah, blah, blah! I didn't think there'd be enough of me left to go to a frigging asylum. " My voice shook and I tried to pretend I couldn't see the big ugly veins coming up all over his arms, his chest. "A-and, well, ta-da!"

Hristea snorted, "Where they forced anti-depression pills down your throat, nearly drowned you six-teen times throughout the year and – my personal favourite – placed you under intensive restraints."

Would it freak you out if an old man read your mind? I rolled on the balls of my feet, rocking myself back and forth.

"Mhm, Dr. Dawn said it'd be the last time I'd kick anybody. It was all for my own good and all that bologna. But, The Bucket was my favourite, if you didn't make such a big effort it wasn't so bad." Leaning over I started rolling my stockings down, showing my ankles.

The marks were almost perfect soul mates for the scars on my wrists, except these were a lot bigger. More, like, sinister and gross. You'd think the finicky annoyance my Father is, he'd spot crap like this. Guess again!

Hristea looked me slowly up and down, shaking his head. "I've seen them. Scars from the straps, I know." He sighed, "It seems kind of drastic. Traumatizing."

I laughed, "Um, it's, yeah." Nodding briefly I met his eyes, a seriously impossible gaze. Hristea smirked. "Black Wood was shut down a year ago, somebody finally squealed I guess."

He crossed the room effortlessly, pushing aside a dark, moth eaten navy curtain to reach inside a dark room. I moved to see inside but the curtain totally blocked me.

Hristea strode back, pulling a rich, tightly fitting burgundy t-shirt over his head. The collar was high, and I was kinda surprised the thing managed to go on him so easily.

He glanced at me, grinning. "Come here."


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter 9

Under my feet were flat, perfectly round cobble stones, forking out in multiple paths. But I couldn't see where these trails lead 'cause of these great big, tall bushes that formed walls.

It was like being in the maze at the summer fair back home. People spent like, all year to make them up and have them all pretty, these giant bushel walls. I hated that maze, I could never figure it out and always ended up busting through the walls to get out.

In the distance was this colossal fountain. It billowed out a consistent cascade of glimmering clear water, sparkling as it spread out into the black stone where it remained.

Bordering the fountain were flowering shrubs, fat budding roses, whose faces had opened scarlet petals to stare at the sky.

Moon light fell in a torrent of white over the entire yard, enlightening the whole place in one glance.

"So, can you just do animals when you change?" I asked, trying my hardest to be a little nicer, because he gave me my pajamas back.

Hristea tilted his head, and I staggered back a few steps, hands over my mouth. His large hands crackled, his fingers snapped out of place and contorted over each other.

His head rolled disgustingly on his rock shoulders, shoulders that were popping and locking awkwardly like bad rap music. I gagged, covering my eyes when he groaned.

When it was silent I gradually moved my palms, blowing my hair out of my face and gasping as I looked myself in the face.

"No, I can do more than animals." I squealed at the sound of his voice – my voice!

Hristea crossed his arms over his chest, the burgundy t-shirt that had fit him so tightly before hung around my body like a dress, his pants around my ankles.

"Ohhh, that's _so_ messed up!" I murmured, circling myself in awe. My hair was matted, framing my face in this weird, kinda cool mess.

My lips were slanted in his smirk, it made me look evil and badass like I'd definitely had my hand in the cookie jar.

But my eyes were totally white, big freaky snowballs. The whole thing made me shiver.

"Okay, my butt isn't that flat!" I hissed, furiously clenching my teeth as I made my way around him again.

Hristea snorted, pulling the collar of his shirt – that was hanging over my shoulder – away from his body. "Think that's bad, you should see your chest, I am not impressed."

I punched his arm. "Hey!"

He chortled, shaking his head. I made a face, watching my long, bright blonde hair become a dark, almost-black brown and recede to my scalp. He leaned over, collecting his pants while his legs elongated, thick muscle pushing back out into place.

The seams of Hristea's shirt crackled as he filled it out again, patting his chest. "Unfortunately," He said running his hand over his hair as he picked up a walk. "My gifts are limited."

I clenched my teeth. "Limited? How?" Trailing behind him I paused a meter from the fountain. Hristea sat, dragging his fingers through the water as if it was thread.

My body began to react to my proximity to the water.

I felt my throat go brittle and tender, my heart thumping around like a rabid animal in my chest. Knees buckling I crouched down to sit with my head between them, clutching my calves while I trembled.

Hristea was quiet a moment, and I could feel him watched me. If I wasn't in my "freaking out," state as Harlow called it, I would've been flattered or something.

And then I remembered how stupid I looked when I did this and, that Hristea was a vampire and old as hell. Now I just felt like cake in front of a fat kid.

"Limited to touch." He answered finally, "I have to have been in contact with the being I wish to take over for it to be successful."

I exhaled shakily, "That would have been kissing me." Even my tongue felt violated now that I'd said it.

Hristea chuckled, "Yes."

Grunting I opened my eyes. "I wish I could turn into the people I've kissed, there would be some serious sabotaging."

The humour left Hristea's voice, "People _you've_ kissed. You're only fourteen." He said this like I was some pure, innocent little saint fresh out of church. The thought made me laugh hysterically.

"Yeah," I giggled. "You'd be surprised."

He growled, when I peeked up he'd started pacing, it made me dizzy watching him go back and forth like that.

Hristea's expression only made me laugh harder. He reminded me of a kid in a candy shop, whose mom was making him decide between the purple or the red candy.

"What's your problem now?" I asked, my voice gravely from having been situated so awkwardly.

Hristea's fangs hung over his bottom lip. "I'm angry." He snapped, his brow furrowing. "But I don't know why."

"That, my friend, would be jealousy." I breathed, ducking back into the safety of my knees.

He snarled, "No. Envy is a flaw – a human flaw." He made it sound like I'd called him the ugly duckling.

I chuckled bitterly. "Welcome to the world of emotions, prepare to be chewed up and spat out again every day." Sighing, I released my leg to rub my eyes. "Can I go home now?"

"No!" He snatched me up, "Come."

I didn't really have much choice, I mean his grip wasn't exactly in the escapable category. It was hard to keep his pace, and I tripped a lot, and that didn't really do anything for my queasiness.

When he finally stopped we were far out of the courtyard, Hristea paused, letting me go to steady myself.

Keeping still, I waited for my surroundings to stop spinning. If I wasn't alone with a vampire I would've liked the buzz I got from being light-headed.

We stood in a small clearing, the trees weren't a bother anymore but the grass was tall and itchy. The cool breeze made my arm hairs stand making me shudder.

Hristea's eyes were brighter in the dark, they were wide and luminous. It was hard not to stare.

"What do you think of me?" He demanded, his tone quiet.

I grimaced, "You're mean and, rough and you're always telling me what to do – you annoy the shit out of me and-"

"I meant The Undying." He interrupted, smiling.

Shrugging a shoulder I blinked at him. "I dunno, why? Do you vant to suck my vlood?" I made a horrible impression of his accent, catching his eyes narrow.

"Right now, I think I just want to hurt you." He grunted, "Answer my question."

I groaned, "I swear to god if you just hauled me out here to drill me on vampire trivia…" Shaking my head I started wrapping grass around my fingers.

"Do you not think we are monsters?" Hristea's voice was all distant, like Harlow's sometimes did when she started talking about running away from home and stuff.

"Oh, hell yeah!" I gasped, Hristea looked away from me, his ivory skin seeming to glow in the moonlight. "Well, maybe not Analeigh she's so innocent and like, a terrible vampire. But you guys kill people – you've killed people."

His lips twitched, "I do what is required to survive." I cringed at that response, what a dick. Other people totally needed to die to sustain a monster that shouldn't even exist, yeah, right.

I shook my head, "But you enjoy it."

Hristea smiled sardonically, nodding to himself. He looked at me from the corners of his eyes, I backed up when he came closer.

"Perhaps if I showed you," His voice was menacing. "You'd enjoy it too."

I pushed him, putting all my weight into it, just for him to blink down at me. "No, I won't." I growled, "I'd bleed to death and then where would we be?"

Hristea curled his fingers in my hair, pulling my head back. My throat felt bare, just out there powerlessly, his for the taking. I went to punch at him but my hands were shaking so much, they refused to make proper fists.

Flinching away from him, I winced. "Don't."

Holding my breath I braced for impact. Keeping my head clear and waiting for the prick of his fangs and, the numbness of being sucked out of myself.

My heart had itself burrowed way deep in my throat when he brought his lips to my neck. I tasted it's hard beating, felt the blood rush through my face, burning my skin wherever it went.

Hristea left a trail of scorching kisses across my throat to my jaw. Gradually I opened one eye, looking up at him.

"You weren't ever going to bite me were you?" My words were a flourish not even I could fully understand, it came out in a gush on a breath of pure nerves.

Hristea smirked, "No, of course not. You would bleed to death and then where would we be?"

I snorted, my body unsure of whether I found that embarrassing or, if I was angry because he'd just played a completely sick and twisted joke.

So I remained still, waiting for the emotional warfare to cease. Hristea smiled at me, as if he could see it, see right inside of me and smirk at the damage he'd caused.

The idea made me furious.

Hristea freed my hair. "You'll come with me to the Bereavement then?" In his voice I heard something hopeful, something I could crush.

Putting myself as far way from him as he would allow, I thought a moment. "I can wear whatever I want?"

Hristea made a face, like there was something wrong with my clothes. Coming from the guy whose whole family dressed like it was the bloody 16th century!

Finally, he nodded, his crazy green eyes narrowing on me. The corner of Hristea's lip twitched, reigning in a grin.

I sighed, "No." Wrenching my wrist loose I spun on the balls of my feet, sprinting as fast as I could.

Slapping branches out of my face, I ducked under a fallen tree and scurried back up to my feet, pushing myself onward. _Don't look back Sawyer_, I told myself, keeping my breaths steady.

When you ran from police cars for a living it was easy to build up some serious speed. The only bad part was, this wasn't pavement and there weren't any alleyways to jump into.

My foot caught on a root and I stretched my hands out to catch myself, hitting the mossy ground with a loud _thwack!_

The air in my lungs evaporated the instant I landed, and I felt the thin skin of my palm tear on the jagged edge of a rock. Groaning I rolled onto my back, brushing bracken and dirt off of my clothes with my good hand.

Tears began to sear my eyes, holding to my eyelashes while I examined my hand. Blood was coming steadily from the big gash, already I could feel my fingers tingling with the abrupt numbness.

"Crap." I breathed, sitting up and wiping my hand down the side of my track pants, smearing a long black trail of blood down my thigh. The fabric of my pants irritated my wound, and I watched as it dribbled down my forearm.

When I gazed around, I didn't see the forest Hristea had brought me to. I didn't see the fat rough trunks and long, thick branches.

Instead I saw my bathroom at home, the Jacuzzi tub Dad had installed and, beside that the tall shower.

The pale bathroom tiles, with the same colourless grout. Our blue painted walls, and the deep double sinks, the cabinets where all my shampoo and makeup was.

And the floor was doused in blood. My blood. Water pounded heavily in the empty shower, razor blades covered the tiles.

Gazing down at my wrists, I saw the blood pouring from my puckering scars. Watched as it stained my clothes and swirled in a puddle on the ground.

Hristea was there suddenly, shaking me.

I blinked, looking up at him, into his crazy white eyes. His lips were moving but no words were coming out. It was like one of those stupid silent movies my history teacher, Mr. Goss, made us watch one class.

"Sawyer!" His voice was gravely and freaked me out when it finally reached my ears.

He opened my fist easily and I squirmed when he brought my hand to his lips, screamed when his tongue moved over it. Then he raised his wrist, I caught the gleam of his fangs, and he bit into his arm.

Swaying slightly in his lap, I felt woozy. My head was too heavy for my neck, and it lolled on my shoulder, dangling there as if it was hanging from a thread.

He pushed his wrist onto my mouth and I kicked my legs up in protest, trying to wriggle free.

Hristea's blood was on my tongue, the warmth of it soothed my throat but I gagged. It didn't taste like blood, hell no, blood tasted like copper and salt. This, this sure as hell wasn't blood.

I swallowed quickly to get it over with, although it did not stop, I could feel the closing of his skin against my lips. It was almost like his bite mark was getting smaller and smaller.

When I coughed he drew his arm back, his hand feeling my forehead. The world began to slow down, until it'd stopped spinning entirely.

It was like being on a rollercoaster, ya know, those last few minutes when the ride came to an end. And the adrenaline dies off and your head gets leveller than it was before, the pressures off of your chest.

And then, you're sad it's over.

Leaning into his shoulder I sighed, listening to this wild, random fluttering. I glanced around a bit, looking for the source, when he took my hand that had been bleeding and placed it over his heart.

"Whoa." I mumbled, gaping down at where my hand rest. His heart was going like, a million times every second. That wasn't normal, I mean, mine didn't do that.

"What'd you do to me?" I growled, glaring at him blackly. This look of relief washed over his face in a sheen of sweat, Hristea laughed.

He took me by the wrist, turning my hand palm-up. "I saved you." My eyes widened while I gawked at my hand, it was like nothing had happened, I hadn't fallen and I'd never even started bleeding.

"See," He let me go, placing his hand on the mossy ground where my blood had spilled all over.

I gasped as vines began to curl over his fingers, wrapping around his wrist. They were thick like the root I tripped over, and they were dark and green. "Not all of us are entirely bad."

As he spread his fingers tall stalks sprouted up from between them, teeny baby flower buds hunching over themselves. I saw the muscles in his arms flex, and then the buds started to open, spreading large electric fuchsia petals.

I held my mouth closed as I stared my favourite flowers in the face.

"You were there, at the hospital – the creepy guy." I accused, leaning away from him to get a better look at his expression. Hristea's lips twitched when he snorted, I caught a glimpse of his fangs.

"The creepy guy," He nodded. "Yes, t'was me." He balled his hand into a fist, and I reached out to save the dying orchids as they suddenly started wilting and browning. They reminded me of Dad when he spent too much time out in the sun.

"Why can you do that?" I asked, holding the brown-black head of one of my dead flowers.

Hristea shifted slightly, moving his fingers from the dead heap and stretched them. "It is my element: earth. Emilia, Dorian and I inherited them from our Father, he can control them all."

I grunted, "Analeigh said she got something from Dorian too." Hristea tilted his head, the muscle in his jaw throbbed as he cracked either side of his neck.

"Not exactly." He murmured, bringing me against him again. "Dorian is, himself, the very personification of fire, he creates it, manipulates it, rules it." Hristea paused, but the sense of admiration in his voice still rung in my ears.

"Analeigh is still a Young Blood, she cannot yet control her 'gifts,' but she is learning quickly. She is as affected by her emotions as she once was." Hristea shrugged one of his rock shoulders.

"She may only shape it, ask it to do whatever it is she desires. However, that does not mean it will listen. Fire is very temperamental – and does not forgive-"

I cut Hristea off with a snort, "It's not a person or anything. You talk about fire like it's a person." I cracked my knuckles "I had a friend who was a pyromaniac once – he was really awesome."

Hristea clenched his teeth. "It may not be a person, but it is a living thing. Definitely not as emotive as earth, perhaps, but certainly more destructive, a creature who thrives on pure rage." Hristea smirked wickedly.

I shook my head, "Yeah. I'm kind of very freaked out right now. My Dad said you were just a tourist story."

Hristea looked amused, "Do I look like a fictional character to you?" His voice was challenging, his green eyes provoking me.

I gnashed my teeth together. "I wish you were just a fictional character." Hristea's brows arched while he waited for me to go on. I could see the slender points of his fangs over his bottom lip, and gulped roughly.

"I mean, you...you like, hurt people." I said this as I pushed out of his grasp, standing up and touching my unscathed palm. "And you like, you know, _like_ it."

I stepped back, whirling around when a loud snap erupted under my foot. I swore. "Of all places, why a frigging forest? Why at night time? Normal people sleep at this time you know!"

Hristea cocked his head to the side, his eyes flickering upward. "I can hide our scents here, it's much more comfortable." A kind of nostalgic smile came over his pallid lips. "I don't believe I have been in this form for this long before, it is a strangeness."

I rested my hands on my hips, cocking my head to the side and blowing wisps of blonde hair from my face. "This form? What does that even mean?"

Hristea chuckled lowly. "I am a shape shifter...I'm not usually in this body. Being Man is not something I'm accustomed to." He stood slowly narrowing his eyes. "And I sleep during the day, for the most part, I've only ever glimpsed the sun before."

I gawked at him. Sweet baby Jesus. No sun? No sun! That totally rules out tanning and getting wasted on the beach in the summer. Balls. I didn't even wanna think about that.

"Come, I want you to see something." Hristea reached out to snatch my arm then brought his hand back like I had some terrible disease – oh wait! I do!

Fuck my life.

He opened his hand, like he was offering it to me. I laughed sharply, "What no grabbing? You're not gonna haul me off to your bat cave or anything?"

Hristea hissed through his teeth, he was grinning but I could see the annoyance in his wild eyes. Lifting my hand I held his, twining our fingers together.

Hristea had big hands big, coarse, wolf hands that ate mine whole. His fingers crushed mine, squeezing them in ways I didn't think were good, when I looked up at him, I figured he probably wasn't doing it on purpose.

If I told Harlow that I had a jerk off, bloodsucking, billion-year-old dude after me, she wouldn't believe me. Unless she was, like, _really_ frigging high.

But if I told her that some guy gave me butterflies, she'd laugh and ask me who the unlucky sucker was. I dunno, Hristea made me furious, like, light-his-face-on-fire furious.

So thinking he was kinda, like, hot was really....awkward? Well, I guess vampires are supposed to be pretty and tall, dark and handsome ya know, like in the books.

Hristea wasn't like that though...he wasn't your usual blond-haired, blue-eyed, supper tanned, sexy Cosmopolitan underwear model.

The ballerina flats I wore reminded me of Beca René – AKA: queen of the skanks.

They were this kind of purple that matched my _Campus Crew_ sweater. And they had these big, fancy bows on the heels that kept rubbing up on my ankles.

When we got inside I was slipping all over the place like I was on some damned slip-and-slide, because of them. I scowled, looking up at Hristea as he turned us down another long hallway, guiding me into this huge ass ballroom.

It was like, torn right out of that Disney movie....the one with the blonde....and the shoe? Cinderella! Yeah, I never liked that chick.

I was more into Belle from _Beauty and the Beast_. When I was little Dad bought me that big, sparkly yellow dress she wears. I wore it for like, a week straight – I even slept in it.

Hristea made this noise in the back of his throat, like a muffled laugh. I remembered then that he could read my mind and cursed under my breath.

He lead me down these endless staircase, passing at least eight people, four on each side of us. When we came by some averted their gaze like I was Medusa, while others pretended to pick at a smudge on their burgundy uniforms.

These were the same people from my dream! I ground my teeth together daring them to bump into me. Hristea squeezed my hand lightly – well his version of lightly which was nearly Snap Crackle Popping my hand.

"You needn't worry, not while I'm here." He said, his expression hard and serious, his green eyes gleaming as he stabbed me with his gaze.

Tilting my head back, I gaped at the massive crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. They looked like the one Aunt Charity had in her dining room. I was never allowed in there.

Hristea brought me across the vast room, leading me to a great jet black, glossy piano. Talk about an elephant in the room! Releasing my hand he reached out for the bench, drawing it out and sitting wordlessly.

In front of him was a bulking, leather book. I could see lengthy, yellowing sheets poking out from inside, the corners ripped and curling awkwardly.

The pages were scattered across the top of the piano, they were covered in rough, chaotically scrolled music. I squinted at them, trying to read the harsh hand, feeling the places where the ink pen had nearly gone right through the page.

I flinched slightly when Hristea began to play; his eyes were distracted, though they followed the sheet of music before him. I slapped my hands down on the polished wood, hoisting myself up – I always wanted to do this!

His eyes raked over me as I laid myself out on top of the piano, my feet in the air, kicking back and forth. I crossed my arms, resting my chin atop them.

For a few minutes I watched his hands sweep over the keys, long and calloused fingers stretching so smoothly, gracefully.

The milky white keys even looked old, they were cracked where his fingers lay, almost as if he'd tried to smash them with just his fingertips.

Unfolding my arms I plucked a sheet up, carrying my eyes over the bars and symbols, not understanding at thing. I can't play an instrument really, just whistle a bit – to my Father and his associate's disappointment.

Hristea played a solemn, bleak tune that made me frown. I wrapped long strands of my blonde hair around my fingers, peering over the edge of the page I held to look at him.

"Do you play anything happy?" I asked quietly, eyes down again. Hristea made an amused grunt.

"What is happy about being Undying?" He replied, his music unaffected, it was a ghostly kind of music, something you'd play at a funeral home maybe.

I clenched my teeth, blowing out a breath. "Drinking, ya know, blood and ki-killing people – stuff like that." I shrugged, ignoring the shake in my voice as I shifted on the piano, hearing the crackle of the papers beneath me.

Hristea chortled, "Yes, I suppose those would be things I enjoy, but things you tire of over time. Blood, although it is nourishing as it is pleasurable, there are other things much more pleasing. As for killing, it is for entertainment – no more no less, it has become something of a game really."

Trying not to cringe, I balled my hand in a fist as I let the sheet of paper slip from my fingers. "How dare you!" I hissed, "You are so awful! You're such an as-"

His song came to an abrupt end, it would've probably made me jump or something, but it didn't.

I leaned into his kiss, my brow creasing vehemently when the tickling, agitating wings of butterflies fluttered around in my stomach. The feeling made my head spin and my heart do all these weird jerks and stops.

Hristea's mouth was volatile, pushing my lips further apart. I clutched the edge of the piano the tips of my fingers jamming against the hard, glossy wood.

His coarse palm moved over my jaw, his claws pushing into my pulse while his other hand looped in my hair, holding me there. My hand shook when I reached out to feel the square curve of his jaw and, the bristly stubble that lay there.

If he wasn't this good a kisser and all I'd be really – and I mean _really_, fucking pissed off right now!

"Ow!" I flinched, ripping back as I brought my hand to my mouth. When I looked at my fingers they were smeared with the finest line of blood.

My lip stung a little where his fangs had gone through, the pain was sharp and numbing. When I pressed my tongue into the sore little cuts I felt the skin mending.

A forked tongue swirled over Hristea's lips where my blood was, his white eyes taking on this feral, vibrant, impossible green again. His breathing was ragged when he said, "Sawyer, I'm sorry."

His eyes narrowed until I could only see a sliver of those crazy eyes. He looked so focused it was like he was trying to see right through my head, when he pivoted on the bench to gaze across the room.

I looked in time to see the servants in their uniforms rise from their kneeling position. My eyes tapered as they met the dark, excited black-sea blue eyes of a tall, beautiful blonde.


	10. Chapter Ten

Um, well, I don't wanna give away any surprises buuuutttt...I've got one question for you guys: too much?

~Selene

* * *

Chapter 10

Who the hell was she? The female Aqua-Man? I pushed myself away from Hristea, sliding on the smooth piano top as I brought myself to a sitting position.

Hristea noisily cleared his throat, his voice still betraying him when he said, "Mother." I watched from the corner of my eyes as he nodded, I crossed my legs slouching while I looked her over.

She was tall and slender, but she didn't have that kinda cat-likeness about her like Dorian and Emilia did. In fact, she didn't look anything like any of them.

Those deep blue eyes never parted with mine, it was like a challenge, ya know, like who could look away first. But the longer I stared her down the more her eyes reminded me of the black crushing depths of The Bucket. Turning slightly, I lowered my eyes.

Her hair bounced as she strode, thick glimmering golden curls jumping up to kiss her evident cheekbones. Her rich hair the perfect contrast to her creamy white skin and large, full blood red lips.

She wore a black gown, one that fell all the way down to the floor and, the long sheer lace sleeves went slightly over her elegant hands.

She was like a really posh Morticia Addams. Ya know, without all the eye shadow.

She smiled at Hristea, the way I imagined Dad would smile at baby Natalie if she'd been born.

Her smile held in it the warmth I felt when Aunt Kristine first hugged me. It was so bright, so welcoming and safe it took me a while to remember she was a vampire.

Hristea's vibrant green eyes lightened when she put her hand on his rock-like shoulder. Her eyes narrowed, back on me. "And who is this lovely creature?"

I recoiled at the velvety sound of her voice, it was so like, I dunno, _perfect_. Something you'd have to practice over and over again just to even sound a little similar.

I could hear her age in her voice, could hear the Mom in it. It was easy to spot. It was the exact opposite of my Mom's.

"This is Sawyer." Hristea's voice softened noticeably when he talked to her. To me he didn't sound like the same person at all.

She grinned widely, extending her arm and offering her hand to me. I looked at it, quickly sensing that this wasn't something I was gonna be able to avoid. I reached out, reluctantly returning the gesture and squeezed her hand.

"I'm Ekaterina." She sighed, slipping her fingers from mine. "You'll have to excuse me," She laughed. "I've been waiting for this a while now."

_Great_, I thought. _Not creepy at all. _I nodded despite myself, forcing a grin for her. Ekaterina only laughed harder, clasping her hands, her knowing gaze sweeping over her son, Hristea gave her a sharp look jerkily shaking his head.

Ekaterina pursed her bright red lips at him, her flawless features scrunching as they exchanged glances. Hristea swore, leaning back on the bench to gaze at the man who had managed to enter the room unseen.

Squinting I raked my eyes over Dorian. I was sure, when I'd seen him last he didn't look quite so, I dunno, old? And his dark hair wasn't greyish like that either.

When he finally reached us I realized that I'd totally messed up – this wasn't Dorian at all.

His green eyes, the same as Hristea's but reminding me thoroughly of Emilia moved over me slowly, thoughtfully. He then gazed at Hristea, lips twitching into a wryly smirk.

He put his hand on Ekaterina's and when she looked over her shoulder she didn't try to hide her pout. His knuckles whitened as he clutched her hands, Ekaterina sighed loudly, whirling on her heels and following him back toward the stairs.

From where I sat I could hear them murmuring. And although I'm pretty much, the greatest eavesdropper who ever lived, I couldn't make sense of any of it.

When they'd gone Hristea groaned, I turned to look down at him. I laughed dryly at the sight of him, hands over his face, fangs descended.

"Believe me my Mom is _way_ worse." I clenched my teeth when he met my eyes. "She doesn't look anything like you though."

Hristea snorted, "Ekaterina is not my biological Mother." He stated bleakly eyes distant, obviously he'd been sucked back farther than I could ever dream of going.

"Ahhh," I nodded in understanding. "They're divorced, I wish my parents would divorce." I pictured it in my head; maybe Dad would marry another chick. A hot redhead maybe. Oooh! With loads of cash to spoil her step-daughter with!

Hristea chuckled, lifting his hand to rest it on my thigh. I tried to ignore it, except it was impossible.

Even though it was sitting there as light as a feather, it branded my skin right through my pants. The feeling made me shiver violently – something I didn't really wanna let him see.

But Hristea just shook his head, "No, not divorced. She was...she was murdered actually." Hristea's expression got stone hard, like he'd just put on a mask. His eyes though, his eyes were so dark – the green fading entirely as his gaze lowered.

I swallowed heavily, unlocking my arms and gliding my fingertips over his large knuckles. "Murdered? Did you ever find out who did it?" I asked, my tone totally missing it's usual tenacity.

Hristea chuckled but not in the way that made you want to join in. "Yes. I did. Emilia did. Dorian did." His tone became vicious, fangs protruding over his lower lip. "When The Undying are born, they tear from their Mother's body, having taken all her strength. They are ruthless in their wake, clawing at skin and bone – desperate to get to the surface until they are free."

Choking I clapped my hand over my lips, feeling like I might just upchuck my insides all together. My right hand stretched, attempting to fit over his, I held his hand tightly rubbing deep circles into his skin.

"So Ekaterina...?" I mumbled, pressing my fingernails into the brutal veins pulsing beneath his pallid flesh.

Hristea's lips fidgeted in a genuine smile, his hostile mask cracking a little bit.

"I found Ekaterina." He said quietly, his fingers folding over my own to keep them there. When suddenly he was pulling me off the piano, a small scream slapped the roof of my mouth.

Hristea dragged me into his lap, holding me against his chest. I figured this is how a Band-aid must feel, ya know, like being put over a great big cut.

Only this cut went way, way down and I had to wonder how I, this little Band-aid, could protect it.

Coiling my arms around his shoulders, I remembered what it was like in the mall parking lot, I remembered how awesome it felt to be in his arms.

It wasn't like before, it wasn't like I was the only package of Skittles at a fat camp. This was like...peanut butter and jelly.

I could get used to this.

I was just about to say something when he put his hand over my mouth. "It's better if you see not listen." He whispered this, his lips on my ear. Confusion captured my face when out of nowhere, he grabbed my arm so hard, so crushing I yelped.

Hristea wrenched me back through his memories, past an endless blur of pictures and distorted voices. Until it was reduced to a single voice, a single picture.

There was a boy, and by the looks of him I guessed he couldn't have been much older than maybe five.

_He wore snow white slacks and a matching blouse, the collar held tightly up to his chin, pinned there by a wine coloured silken kerchief. _

_His hectic, longish black-brown hair hung down by his chin, thick messy bangs dangling just above his eyes. Lengthy, colourless nails extended from his tiny fingertips. _

_His eyes a cloudy, empty white so wide and so frantic it made my heart race. And as he cried out, his fangs descended, nerve-racking compared to his chubby undeveloped lips. _

_Hands out before him he shoved through a crowd of sweeping satins and velvets, every colour of the rainbow. He clawed to his freedom, crawling up a towering set of stairs until he'd run out of the room. _

_Tears streamed down his round cheeks as he scrutinized every face he passed, never seeming to find who he was looking for. _

_Moaning in defeat, he crumbled in a corner beneath a table, ducking his face into his white slacks and squeezing his eyes shut. _

_The snapping of drywall made him jump and he whirled around, batting at a series of thick, flailing green vines. They reached out for him, leaves curling around his teeny hands while he shooed them away. _

"_No, no stop!" He screamed, pushing them away in vain. But the more upset he got the stronger the vines became, until they were sprouting colourful buds, opening wide and kissing at his palms. "Not now, not now!" He kept repeating, speaking through chattering teeth. _

"_Hey there." Her voice was angelic, and he recognized it instantly, as if it had come from a dream. Quickly he crawled out from under the table, his vines retreating to the walls again. _

"_Mommy?" His voice was hopeful, pleading. He reached hastily for her hands, climbing into her awaiting arms, hiding his face in the mass of her long golden hair and inhaling. _

_She smoothed his hair over with her palm, holding him tightly. "Easy, now, you're alright." She promised, the glisten off her fangs impossible to miss._

_He sniffled, leaning back and studying her carefully, memorizing her face, sure that he had heard her voice before. She ran her thumb beneath his eyes, smiling as the resplendent green returned. _

"_Now you're Hristea." She grinned dark, wild blue eyes softening as she took him in. "Come, I'll take you back." _

_But Hristea struggled, "I can't go back! I can't, I can't!" He panted, his lips trembling though no tears were formed again. "I have to find my Dad." _

_Immediately she understood. "We'll find him together then, shall we?" Hristea nodded, resting his face in the curve where her shoulder joined her neck. _

_Together, they wove through the crowd, the hoard of Undying, seeming to float through the dancing throng. She smiled when they approached a tall, muscular man, his hair drawn back in a thick red ribbon, few defiant brunette strands swaying around his temples. _

_He wore a black jacket, a rich scarlet blouse hidden beneath. His legs hidden behind his ebony slacks, ending at his knees were tall, slender riding boots took over. _

_Before him were two children, a boy and a girl, completely identical to Hristea although somehow they looked older. _

_The boy's hair hung around his shoulders, thick near-black brown hair, veiling his effervescent left eye. _

_He wore a blouse the same snow white as Hristea's though the buttons of his chest were left open. A navy kerchief dangled loosely under the folds of his lapel. _

_His slacks were white as well, following his legs right down to the sudden rip of black that were his shining shoes._

_His expression was sharp, wrathful, his lips a lot less chubby than Hristea's carrying much more edge. _

_His animated green eyes half lidded, long lashes curved downward as his eyes appraised the girl, a fierce smirk coming over his mouth. _

_The fingers of the boy's right hand were tightly intertwined with the girl's beside him, her free hand still clutching his right arm while she rested her head on his shoulder. _

_The girl's luminous green eyes rested on the boy's, longing and passionate. Her white dress hugged her slim figure, an elegant navy blue shawl wrapping around her pale arms._

_Her hair wound around her shoulder, much longer than the boy's, tied tightly in a fishtail braid, lying over her shoulder. _

_The girl lifted her head, creases forming in the sleeve of the boy's blouse as she squeezed his arm. Her slender lips formed a gasping O before she said, "Hristea."_

_The tall, well-built man before them spun at a speed that left him as a mere blur. He was before Hristea and the woman instantly, arms outstretched as she placed him in his grasp. _

"_Thank you Ekaterina." The man rasped, his voice full of worry as he pressed his son to his chest in a hug. _

_Ekaterina shrugged a shoulder, lifting her hand to curve it over his temple, brushing away the unruly stray hairs. "Octavianus, you should be more careful." Her voice was a light banter, her oceanic eyes curving to match her large smile. _

_He grinned bashfully, kissing the top of Hristea's head before his eyes tapered, fangs descending, eyes flaring a wicked ruby red. "Dorian!"_

_The boy didn't so much as flinch, unlike the girl beside him. Dorian returned the glower, his illustrious eyes blazing flame red. _

_Octavianus growled, gently placing Hristea on the ground. "You were supposed to be watching him!" _

_Dorian clenched his teeth, slender fangs hanging over his bottom lip. He turned away, long thick layers of his dark hair falling more in his face. _

_Emilia tightened her grip on Dorian, eyes wide and frantic as she gaped at her brothers. "Daddy we-" she was silenced by the simplest raise of Octavianus' hand. _

_Ekaterina grasped Octavianus' shoulder, her nails pressing into the smooth fabric of his jacket. "Come now, leave him be, you cannot punish them on their birthday." She purred, giving his ponytail a gentle tug. _

_She winked at Dorian, running her left palm down the length of Octavianus' rigid arm. He sighed, glowering blackly at his son, who still refused to even return his glance. _

_Ekaterina grinned brightly, "Dance with me." She waltzed off, her hair swinging along the base of her back as she dragged Octavianus along behind her. _

_Hristea gulped, meekly peeking up at his brother through his lashes. Dorian hissed, Emilia anxiously holding him back, her hands on her brother's chest._

"_Dorian, I'm sorry I-" Before Hristea could even begin Dorian silenced him with a flaming glare. _

_Hristea pulled his shoulders in, hanging his head while Dorian stormed off. Emilia wrapped her arms around Hristea's shoulders, kissing his ear before chasing after Dorian. _

The scene ended with Emilia rushing into the flowing skirts and gowns of The Undying. Hristea drew us back from the past, I slouched into him, my head throbbing with the rush.

I sighed, closing my eyes, listening to the thrum of his rapid heartbeat. "He was so mean to you." I whispered, sliding my arms from around his shoulders, tucking my hands between his chest and mine.

Hristea's laughter shook through me. "Dorian has always been responsible for me." He shook his head, "He has never forgiven me for being born."

I snorted, "That seems kind of crazy don't you think?" Hristea's hand roamed my back, his face in my hair.

"Well, I suppose I haven't tried to make it simpler for him." He smirked, "Dorian's always been easy to tease, he makes it no challenge to get under his skin."

Grinning I thought of Beca René at my school at home.

We were playing lacrosse in gym class one time and threw the ball at me, knowing I didn't have a stick. I caught it the ball slipped through my fingers and slammed right into my nose.

Yeah, it wasn't like I got watery-eyed and junk, nah, my nose made this really gross cracking noise. Ya know, like, popcorn kinda? And then I started bleeding and bleeding and bleeding.

All I could remember after that was falling over and Harlow was screaming for the teacher.

When I got up I'd been in the hospital for the rest of the week in "critical condition." My whole room was full with all those stupid, meaningless, sentimental "get well soon," cards sent from everybody. None from Beca.

So the day I got back from school I punched her in the face so hard I think I cracked her cheek bone or something. Yeah, I guess you could say I got under her skin.

See pretty, sporty, preppy girls like Beca Danielle René who are part of the VIP of my school don't get punished.

With a bat of her long black lashes and pouting those heavily glossed lips, Beca and her crew could weasel out of just about everything.

Bouncing across my duvet I gnashed my teeth together. I bet if me and Harlow started I dunno, being more _girlish_ we could pull off all our usual stunts and still get off free. Wait a second – bouncing? Duvet?

Hristea lingered at my window, his eyes looking irritated the muscles in his jaw surging wildly. I blinked around my dark room in the Cohen house, wondering how I got here.

I was about to ask when Hristea drew the curtains shut, backing away from the window as a beam of warm yellow light spilled through.

"It was getting early." He murmured, coming to sit on the edge of the bed beside me. "I assumed you wouldn't want to spend the day in my bed so–" He waved his hand around my musty guestroom, eyes grazing over the mounds of clothes I'd gone through. "I thought I'd spend it in yours."

Choking on my words I gawked at him, slack jawed. "Hey, what? You can't sleep with me!" I shouted, springing over to scale my bed, snatching up my pillows and clutching them to me.

Hristea's eyes were dark, nothing like the bright impossible green suns they'd been before. His lips twitched, the smirk lines around his mouth showing more than usual.

"I'm afraid there isn't another way." He said on a shaky exhale. "I've been up past the hours my body is used to, and being Man doesn't make it any easier."

"Ohhh yeah!" I gasped, suddenly remembering I'd spent my entire evening with a vampire. "You sleep during the day right? Isn't doing that here like...dangerous?"

Hristea nodded, swaying slightly. "Dorian and I were competing and as it seems he may just win this one."

My stomach made an awkward loop, making my heart do all this random stopping and starting. Not losing any oxygen I ruled out cardiac arrest quickly.

What a weird feeling...

"Well, um, how long have you been...awake?" I asked, loosening my death grip on my pillows. Hristea looked at me with eyes that appeared to be shrinking back into his head.

He pursed his lips. "No more than 32 hours," His eyes narrowed, "No, 32 hours fifteen minutes and 24 seconds." He nodded to himself, losing that monster like, squared shoulder posture to slouch over himself.

I groaned as I rubbed my eyes, they stung at my touch. "Okay fine," I whined. "But only because you look like crap."

Hristea chuckled, turning over to join me. I didn't really realize how small this bed was until now, watching him fall into the mattress was like seeing a rock sink in a pond.

Stretching myself out I lay on my stomach, my whole left half draped over the corner of the bed. I closed my eyes, focusing on staying balanced as I drew the covers up to my chin.

Finally fading into the imprint of my body in the squishy mattress I heard him laugh. "I'm not going to bite you Sawyer." His voice was quiet, dreary.

Lifting my head from the spongy crease from my stripy pillow, I glared at him. "Maybe I just like the edge huh? Ever think of that?" I snapped, Hristea twirling a strand of my hair between his index and thumb.

He dropped it instantly, rolling slightly and yanking me in with his right arm. "I don't see how you possibly could. Especially since _I'm_ over _here_."

Cursing under my breath I hid my face in the hollow of his shoulder. "Just so we're clear, I don't like this." I growled, Hristea smiled encircling me with his arms.

I felt his face in my hair, "No, of course not."

Gradually coming to my sleepy senses I sat up, scrubbing the sleep outa my eyes. I was about to push the heavy pillow off my stomach when my hand came in contact with silky short hair.

I jerked my arm back fully awake as I held in my scream. Hristea's head felt like a bolder right on my abdomen, from his whole lower half hung over the edge of my bed.

How was that even a tad bit comfy?

The thing that freaked me out most, was that he kinda looked like one too.

Like, he wasn't like a person...he wasn't breathing. He wasn't even snoring like a normal boy does.

"Omigod you're dead!" I squealed, trying to fit my hands on his shoulders comfortably. "Hey, c'mon!" I tried shaking him like Dad does to me when I sleep in but Hristea's just so frigging big!

Hristea's brow furrowed, pulling his shoulders in and pushing his head back into my stomach.

Something that sounded like a trapped groan tore in the back of his throat, making his Adam's apple jolt up. Fangs slipping over his lips, the lids of his eyes wrinkling.

To me it was kinda like watching someone drown. Watching them try to hold their breath in until the last possible second, until it got so unbearable, the thirst for air go so overwhelming they choked.

Hristea's eyes opened wide, his chest rising high with a huge inhale. They were raging for a second, so massive and furious I actually jumped back a little.

His lips parted as he blew out, blinking and taking me in with full recognition. His lips were pale, snowy and he smiled at me. "You rang." For some reason the playful sarcasm of his voice actually made me feel better.

I dragged my fingers through my knotted hair, trying to smile but it felt fake and clumsy on my face. Hristea lifted his hand running the tips of his fingers under my chin, which left this weird burning feeling.

"You were like, dead," I shook my head. "Like _dead_, _dead_ as in not your usual walking around dead."

He laughed, his chest jerking up and down. "I was sleeping Sawyer Undying do, do that."

I slouched over him, feeling like a vulture as I watched him breathe, shuffle, press his back into my knees. All the things he didn't do when he was _asleep_.

Narrowing my eyes on him I screwed my lips over to the side. "Yeah but, you didn't move or anything – you weren't even breathing."

Hristea snorted, closing his eyes again. "That's because I'm dead." I dug my nails into the fabric of his burgundy shirt, gritting my teeth together.

Groaning I cracked my back. "Vampires are really confusing." Hristea's lips slanted into a familiar smirk, green eyes cast down at the door just as Gavril walked in.

He wore really baggy black track pants I was sure Kellen wore a few days ago, along with a bright green Priestess band t-shirt.

Gavril was mumbling something about breakfast when he halted, scrutinized me.

Scrutinized Hristea.

Scrutinized me.

Hristea cackled, "Get out." The humour was there but his tone was not all something I'd call _nice_. "Now."

Gavril's green-brown eyes squinted at me, his mouth hanging open while he trembled. He blinked once, screamed like a girl and went darting out the door again.

Hristea laughed so hard, so contagiously I couldn't help but join in. I snorted, clapping my hands over my face to try to stop myself, but the snorts kept coming.

Dropping back against my pillow I willed the image of Gavril's horrified expression out of my head, he just looked so petrified. It was just so awesome.

"Do they all do that?" I asked, giggling despite myself, holding my breath in my chest.

Hristea grinned, "Pretty much. I'll pick you up after school some time – now that's a party." His eyes got dark and sinister, I was thinking this was going to be a good friendship, me and Hristea.

"I really need to rest now Sawyer." Hristea's voice was distant, tired. "I'll see you tonight."

I had a feeling that was a promise.

&&&

The day went by as usual.

Pfft! Not! Absolutely not, actually, it was probably the most exciting time since that night Harlow and me egged Principal McMatther's house.

I had to be really careful about what I said to Kristine, not wanting to make her curious or anything.

Really I thought Gavril would be more of an issue, ya know, 'cause he was all spazzy when he walked in on us.

Oddly enough, he just stayed in his room, hopped up on three cans of Jolt, this massive package of Hickory Sticks and, the Underworld series.

So I played along like nothing happened, avoiding all human contact until it was late enough for me to go upstairs, without being accused of swiping any alcohol.

Just as I'd hit the stairs Uncle Nick cleared his throat in a way that was obviously meant for me. Rolling my eyes dramatically, not caring if he saw, I trudged along behind him until we came to his office.

He held the door open for me, motioning for me to sit in one of those too-comfortable chairs. I stood just in front of the door, praying that on Kristine's psycho laundry run she wouldn't find my recently dead boyfriend.

Nope. No, rewind. Boyfriend? Hristea?

That isn't happening...nah, it's not like that. It isn't. No, no, no, no! My boyfriend happens to be my age, happens to have those sexy green eyes and totally ripped body and – omigod I have a crush on a vampire!

Yup, well, wait. Let's work this out shall we. Me on me, one on one. Sawyer vs. Sawyer.

So, at _my_ school, back with all my real friends without all the vampire crap. Jennet E. Stewart secondary school right down to it's core.

There's that guy I met at the party Harlow's brother took us too, Salem Sheppard. I guess he's not really my age, 'cause I skipped grade three to be a year ahead and he didn't.

Salem's sixteen – or recently turned sixteen – and he's like the definition of hot. Or I thought he was. Ya know with the dyed black hair that covers one eye, and the lip piercings.

If I thought hard enough I could remember exactly what he looked like the night we met.

I was wearing a purple tank and the really tight, white short-shorts Harlow lent me.

Salem had on that grey t-shirt with the green and black tie hanging around his neck. He was probably the only guy I knew, besides Gavril, that wore skinny jeans comfortably and made them look good.

He was with Tyler, Harlow's brother, he kept looking at me with those big dopy blue eyes that always reminded me of a puppy. I remembered being totally distracted by his lip rings whenever he talked to me.

My skin got all hot and fuzzy and weird when he held my hand. Then my heart would start beating faster and faster when he'd start leaning down toward me.

When I tried to remember what kissing Salem was like the first thing that came to my head was the word "inadequate."

Now that I think about it, he didn't kiss like Hristea did. I always knew Salem was focusing too much on not fucking up. I couldn't tell with Hristea 'cause he always caught me by surprise.

But...I really liked Salem when I was with him, ya know, like it was fun and dangerous and exciting. Not to mention he didn't seem to care at all that I was _here_ in Transylvania, and _not_ in America.

Considering he never even bothered to call me, or try to at the very least.

Then, there's Hristea. A vampire. I saw him kill someone, saw him maul a man until his limbs and innards painted the parking lot. Hristea who's so random and unpredictable and totally, I dunno, inhuman?

I wasn't like, afraid of him or anything. I don't think. But it's not like I thought of him as more than what we are now. _Which is what Sawyer? What are you now?_ A small voice in the back of my head whispered.

Moaning inwardly, I begged myself to shut up. I mean, why did I have to be so bloody complicated anyways?

It's a pretty easy pick, Hristea drinks blood and kills people. Salem is...._inadequate_.

"Are you listening?" Uncle Nick's voice wrenched me out of my thoughts his hand squeezing my shoulder, his eyes seeking mine. I bit my lip and nodded, what the hell was he saying again?

"I'm just saying, maybe you should get out more." He shrugged hopefully, "Catch a movie with Alexis and Stella?"

I just nodded, clenching my teeth and averting my gaze. "S-sure I'll ask them." I tried to be convincing. Usually I'm like a pro liar, today is just a bad day. "I mean, you're right, I-I should try to meet some people – make some friends."

Nick exhaled, smiling a wide familiar smile, identical to my Father's. I knew what he was thinking: _Eureka!_ Stifling a laugh I forced a grin for his sake, shrugging his hand off speedily and hurrying out the door.

Aunt Kristine was sipping a tea in the kitchen, folding some clothes across the kitchen table. She grinned sleepily at me, taking another pull at her tea while watching me scurry up the stairs.

Hiding in my room I thought about sneaking back downstairs and swiping some wine while Kristine was distracted. Then I figured, her having living with like, a million boys probably gave her sonar hearing like a frigging bat.

I grabbed my towel and new pair of jammies, taking a second to examine Hristea in his boulder state. I could've sworn a fleeting smirk came across his mouth but it was gone the moment I blinked.

Showering for a good hour, making sure all the hot water was gone for when Kellen came home. It was really hard to shave my legs, if the razors were too sharp I had to go to the hospital, if they weren't sharp enough my legs ended up looking retarded.

Sticking my tongue out, I was very careful to keep from cutting myself. Then I wrung out my hair knotted it in a bun, put on my shorts and t-shirt and headed back to my room.

Fiddling with my iPod I set it on the speakers, turning the volume down a little so I wouldn't wake the dead. For a long time I stood in front of my mirror wondering what I was doing.

Then I took a minute to stretch, refusing to think when I rose up on my toes, keeping my balance in check and shutting my eyes. The moves came back so fast it felt as if I'd never stopped ballet, it felt normal and fluent and...like me.

My toes crackled, something I'd quickly learned to ignore. I held my leg in place, pointing my foot and exhaling. I yowled when someone grasped my ankle, wrapping their arm around my waist.

When I looked to the mirror however; there was nobody there but me. I held my breath as the person whirled me around, Hristea looking well-rested and smug when I faced him.

"What are you doing?" He asked, releasing my leg so I could stand properly.

I rolled my eyes. "I did ballet for while, but I quit after I got let out of Black Wood." I shrugged, tilting my head to the side shunning all the thoughts that had recently been clouding my head. Grinning I peered up at him, "Wanna dance with me?"

Hristea cocked his head to the side, squinting. I laughed, when he took my hand in his, now I was really starting to feel like Cinderella. "_What_ are you _doing_?" I demanded, pushing away from him and turning so I could change the song on my iPod.

"Dancing." Hristea said as if this should be clear enough, his marble brow furrowing while his eyes swept over my skin.

I shook my head, trying to look outraged "No, no. People of the twenty-first-century don't waltz." I waggled my index finger at him, Hristea's eyes brightening with curiosity.

Whirling around, I pressed my back against his chest, taking his huge hands and placing them on my hips. I slid one way but he was being really stiff, pulling me back to where we were before.

"You've gatta let me lead." I explained, tilting my head back to see him. Hristea made a wicked face, growling out his disapproval. "Just do it." I prompted, twisting to the opposite side, waiting for him to follow before going to the other side Hristea went totally rigid and I snickered.

He muttered something unintelligible, "This...is not dancing." The way his voice lowered made my heart skip a beat.

I smirked, "You haven't seen anything yet."


	11. Chapter Eleven

You asked for drama? I delivered :) ...I better get some feed back on this, I felt pretty excited writting it lol XD

~Selene

* * *

Chapter 11

To be honest, I've never even heard of a guy who didn't know how to dance. I guess, after a while when he loosened up it was okay.

He moved his hands over my hips, and I closed my eyes, leaning my head back into his shoulder. I didn't pretend not to shiver when Hristea kissed my neck. It was difficult to keep reminding myself of what he was all the time.

It seems like forever since I'd actually enjoyed dancing. Ya know, after I quit everything after that seemed, I dunno, mandatory? At dances, at parties...it was just like, _required_.

This felt like...like what? Like grinding? No...that wasn't it – but it _is_ – it just didn't feel the same. It didn't feel like, um, gross maybe? Yup that works. This didn't feel gross and required and...just straight up _dirty_ altogether.

Hristea spun me round, abruptly pulling me against him. Which, probably would've been cool with me if I wasn't getting a really bad vibe off him. Hristea's eyes were all guarded and dark, his expression totally fake.

He squinted at me, "Who is Salem?" He asked, not bothering to try to make his tone at all kind. I rolled my eyes, putting myself away from him.

Way to kill a mood there, buddy.

I groaned, turning clumsily and pausing the song on my iPod. The room felt really crowded and loud in the sudden silence. Pressing my fists into my hips I twisted my mouth to the side.

"Who cares?" I shrugged, determined not to talk about this. Hristea shook his head a fraction definitely not needing to read my mind to understand that.

He folded his massive arms over his chest, big fat veins pressed up against his ivory skin like vines wrapped around tree trunks. He clenched his teeth. "I do," Hristea's words were tight and crushing coming through lengthy fangs.

"Why?" I pressed, thinking I'd kill two birds in one shot. My undecided feelings for just about everything, and his feelings for...what? My blood? I cringed, playing with a messy layer of blonde hair dangling in my face.

The guest room seemed small when he was in it. The walls closed in on me in a smothering way, that made me wanna run in circles, or duck or something.

Hristea's brow furrowed, those mixed emotions coming back again. He looked frightened like he did in the memory he showed me. "I...I don't know." He shook his head jerkily, angrily. "Because I asked you to tell me, that's why."

I snorted back a laugh, suddenly feeling sick of him. "Hey, in case you haven't noticed, I stopped doing what people asked me to do like, nine years ago." I waved my hands dramatically, "Welcome to reality."

Hristea's eyes became vivid and impatient, his lips twitching in annoyance. I rubbed my eyes, "Look, Salem's my boyfriend, why does it matter a-"

He jumped right into my sentence, green eyes flaring. "_Boyfriend_?" The way he said it made it seem like a bad word. It made me feel as if I'd just confessed to slapping a dolphin, or gone streaking through a church – something stupid like that.

I muffled a laugh. Streaking in a church, that'd be golden.

Nodding I tried to look as serious and agitated as he did. Hristea pinched the bridge of his nose, pivoting on his heels to face away from me.

"It matters greatly." He finally mumbled, "I thought..."

My brows arched in surprise, "You thought...?" I prompted, catching his glare – a look that came so icy and hard I had to turn away.

Hristea exhaled though it sounded more like a growl, his eyes closing for a good ten seconds. "I need to go." Before I could say anything he was ducking his huge body out my window. "I'd suggest that you get some sleep, I plan to keep you up late tomorrow."

Just like that he was gone, my window slammed into place again, the curtains whooshing out towards me. I stared at them, waiting for them to fall back into their usual position.

Gazing at the clock I read midnight, sighed and clicked the lamp off, drawing the curtains and crawling into bed. Half of me was begging for rest, pleading that I just give up and sleep. The other half? I dunno, I wasn't tired.

I just felt so restless, so sleepily wide awake – caught right smack in the middle. So, I needed to think...more. I needed to think about what was right in front of me.

Hristea so random, so unreadable finally made a mistake: he hesitated. He hesitated right when I really needed him not to. I just wanted a straight answer, is that so bloody hard?

Besides, Mr. Inadequate has probably already found another cute blonde to woo. So what was holding me back? Oh, yeah, how could I forget? Hristea's a vampire!

Was it really that hard to forget? I mean, he's got fangs! He. Has. Fangs. It's like he's wearing a giant flashing sign saying: HEY LOOK AT ME – LOOK AT ME! I'M A VAMPIRE! HELLO!

Wake up! I wanted to shake myself. For one, he's twenty. Scratch that. He's 126 _not_ just twenty. Secondly, his diet is liquid protein – and not the energy drink kind.

Like, c'mon Sawyer! That's just yucky! All he wants is to suck your blood and be done with it, no need to make a big fuss or anything.

Sighing, I rolled in my bed tossing back and forth under the too-hot sheets. I flopped there for an hour, before making myself so frustrated I fell into a dark, shallow sleep. The kind that puts you in a pointless black void, then leaves you with a crazy bad headache in the morning.

Monday morning felt weird, like, weirder than usual. I picked out the acid washed jeans I swiped from Harlow and a faded blue t-shirt, pulling my curtains apart to find yet another ugly, cloudy day.

Rolling my eyes I turned to the dresser, plucking my brush off the floor and ripping the bristles through my hectic hair.

Hair is a nightmare, sometimes I wish mine wasn't so long. One time, I tried to buzz it off but Dad caught me before I got the chance.

Carrying my clothes down the hall, I avoided the rush that came with sharing a house with four boys. Really, I swear between Kellen and Stellar it's pretty much impossible to get even three minutes in the bathroom.

Gavril wasn't so bad he was smart and, got up before everybody else and did his business before the chaos started. Uncle Nick was usually gone when everybody woke up so he wasn't a big issue either.

I got the butt end of everything. Ya know, the icy cold shower water, the smog of _axe _that lingered in the bathroom, not to mention the bathroom mirror was all fogged up by the time I got there.

And do not get me started on the frigging kitchen.

Kristine still made lunches for us, I mean, I couldn't remember the last time my Mom made me my lunch since like, kindergarten. No, wait, that was Dad.

Gavril didn't wait for me when we left and he was halfway up the street when I finally caught up with him.

"What's your damage?" I growled, panting heavily as I tried to keep his pace. Gavril shot me a look, his green-brown hazel eyes squinting until I could barely see the colour of them.

"My damage?" He spat, "I dunno, there was an Undying in my house – nothing serious or anything." He shook his head, shaggy blonde hair bouncing across his face.

I pursed my lips, swallowing my laughter as the image of his petrified expression came back to me. I shrugged a shoulder, squeezing my backpack strap. "Well it isn't going to happen again." I murmured, "He needed a place to stay so-"

Gavril stopped completely, grabbing my shoulder. "Are you insane?" I heard his voice drop to a whisper when a group of people came buy us. "Do you have any idea who _Hristea Dragomir_ is?"

I clenched my teeth, pressing my lips together. "Well no duh, I didn't just let a random person climb through my window, ya know." My voice was defensive and the words came out too fast to be even a tad bit believable.

"And you're one to talk," I slapped his hand away taking a step back. "What about Analeigh – she's a vampire too!"

Gavril's nostrils flared as he jabbed me in the chest with his gawky index finger. "_Don't you dare._" He growled, "She's not like them – if you knew – if you _knew_ what he's done..."

Gavril threw his arms up groaning loud enough to draw eyes. "Ask him about the five guys he – no, just ask him how many people he's killed."

I went to say something but Gavril was already storming off, his lanky legs moving faster and faster. I clenched my teeth balling my hands into fists. What did he know? I'd seen Hristea kill someone....then it hit me.

I saw Hristea kill that man...and now there was that _maybe I do maybe I don't_ thing to worry about. How could I even consider liking a dude that went around terrorizing people – murdering people?

My stomach looped and looped around itself, tying up in the most uncomfortable way. I clenched my teeth. Angry at Gavril for coming into my room yesterday, angry at Hristea for ever coming into my life and, furious at myself for feeling things – anything for him to begin with.

School was busy and loud, something I really should've gotten used to by now. I slunk into my seat at the back of English, avoiding all possible questions that could be directed at me. And then I slept through math and science, sluggishly heading to my locker after math to get my camera.

Then I saw it, the bright fuchsia orchid leaning on the back of my locker, staring at me. Grumbling to myself I pulled it out, grumpily gripping a petal to yank off. I slouched, I couldn't do it.

"Stupid flower," I grunted, dropping it on the ugly tiles of the hall to dig around for my camera. I found it, although what was beneath it seemed to take my attention more.

It was my picture of Hristea, the black-and-white photograph of him as a wolf. I gnashed my teeth together, wanting to drop it down with the flower he'd left me too.

What a jerk – bringing me flowers. Ugh! I flipped the picture over, leaving it face down at the bottom of my locker, as I slammed the door and headed off to photography.

Stomping into the classroom I stepped good and hard on the foot Eliani had slipped in my way. She yelped loudly, her blonde ponytail swaying as she clutched her ankle, a fog of her friends surrounding her.

Falling into my chair in front of them I rested my head on the cool tabletop, just beginning to fall asleep when the teacher walked in. We all pretended to listen when she turned the lights out, playing some stupid movie on how to work our cameras the right way and how to take proper pictures.

Something hit me in the back of the head, I whirled around to glare at Bianca and Eliani. They giggled, crushing up more paper balls.

Eliani leaning over her table, vicious eyes fixed on me when she said, "Hey freak, what's that? Bring yourself presents to make yourself feel better?"

I balled my hand into a fist, totally ready to knock her out when her words sunk into me. I froze, pivoting in my seat to gawk at the orchid on my desk.

Eliani and Bianca burst out laughing, while I raked my eyes over the bright petals of the flower I was sure I'd left in the hall. "What the hell?" I narrowed my eyes, deciding against picking it up. Maybe I'd just leave it there after class.

When the movie ended, I spun around in my seat catching the last of Eliani's paper balls and chucking it right back into her face. She squealed, drawing eyes back to us.

Chuckling, "Whoops!" I threw my hands up, "Hope I didn't smudge that spray-tan."

Eliani growled, her shoulders pulled back as she shook her head, bone straight blonde hairs lashing over her cheeks. "Seriously," I added, "You look like an Oompa-loompa."

The teacher shushed us, the class stifling their laughter as Eliani gazed around, glowering. Our teacher went on about some stupid assignment I probably wasn't going to do anyways, while I stared Eliani down.

"I swear, Sawyer, you're going to regret that." Eliani hissed, her manicured nails grating across the top of her table. "I'm gonna make your life a living hell."

I snickered, wanting to tell her who I'd been hanging out with all weekend, sure that'd freak her out. "I dare you to try."

We were dismissed early, and I headed straight for my locker wanting nothing more than to go home. I stopped by Gavril's locker hoping he'd have some kind of apology made up for me by now.

He wasn't there. He wasn't outside. I started walking, ignoring Eliani and her friends calling after me, Kristine would never let me out tonight if I beat anyone up.

I just needed to get back to the house, being alone let me think. At least at the house I could fight with Gavril, which didn't seem like much of a challenge but something to keep me busy.

Running up the drive, I avoided the rain by like, five seconds. I came inside already knowing what argument I wanted to start first. But somebody was already fighting.

I didn't think it could be Nick and Kristine, simply because they weren't anything like my parents. Ya know, these two were golden.

When I came into the kitchen actually, Gavril was arguing with a short redhead. Her hair draped over her right shoulder lashing at her cheeks while she shouted at him.

I knew it was Analeigh, but without one of her fancy dresses it took me a moment to recognize her. She wore a set of tight designer jeans and an olive cashmere sweater, looking more normal than I'd ever seen her before.

I rushed towards them, meeting Gavril's flaming eyes as I squeezed Analeigh's arm. She shot him a glare, when she gazed at me I realized she'd been crying.

"Sawyer I wanted to ask you if you'd come to my birth-" I interrupted, clearing my throat and trying not to look at Gavril.

"I'm already going..." I said it, yeah, but the rest of my sentence seemed to die right on my lips. Did I really want to see Hristea again? Gavril raised his hand at me, the look in his eye begging me not to say any more. "Hri-Hristea already...asked me."

"She's not going Analeigh! Do you have any idea what he could do to her?" Gavril hissed, throwing a black glare my way. I clenched my teeth, now more determined than ever to go – just to spite him.

Analeigh shook her head, "Just trust me, I know what I'm doing." She looked at me warmly, "He wouldn't hurt her."

Gavril snorted, "Right, like Dorian wouldn't _hurt_ you?" He crossed his gangly arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at her as if it was a dare.

Analeigh growled, baring her fangs at him. "No, you're right, he wouldn't! What happened with Lilly was..." She shook her head, "Leave it alone. It's not your decision it's Sawyer's."

"I want to go." I nodded, leaning myself towards Analeigh. A voice murmuring in the back of my head: _You really wanna go?_ "I want to go." I said again, not sure if I was just repeating it to satisfy that voice or Gavril.

Analeigh's lips twitched in a familiar way, it took me a second to place it as Dorian's. Dorian's from the memory Hristea showed me. She looked so smugly victorious I almost laughed at the horror creasing Gavril's face.

"Sawyer's sick Analeigh – don't act like you don't _see_ that, if she gets hurt then it's on my hands. You just want me to let you take her to a vampire party? You almost died when you went! And Mr. Fantastic was right there beside you wasn't he? Didn't seem to make much of a difference."

Analeigh's smirk faded, her lips curling back to suit her snarl. "Oh stop it!" Analeigh's eyes welled up, voice betraying her. "I would've died if he _wasn't_ there." Her shoulders shook hands tightening into fists. "The fact is: Sawyer's coming with me."

There was a finality to her words, something that was pretty much tangible. The thing that was freaking me out, was that Analeigh was cracking – I wondered if Gavril could see it. See the seams busting all over her, if she got mad enough...

Analeigh jumped up then, turning to me and glancing out the kitchen window. "We have to go." She grabbed my hand, "We have to go _right now_."

My backpack fell off my arm just as Gavril grabbed me. "She isn't leaving, Red." He snapped looking at me and biting his nails through my sleeve. "Sawyer don't do this," His voice shook. "Please."

"I would rather not resort to violence over something quite so futile but, I'm bored so..." Gavril and I stiffened when Emilia glided into the room, Analeigh not the least surprised. Emilia made the kitchen seem small and ugly.

She gazed at the red paint of her lengthening nails, green eyes appraising Gavril thoroughly. Emilia's long hair held in a ponytail, she wore these tight dark jeans, ya know, the kind that you'd need the Jaws of Life to get into the pockets. Topping the whole thing off with tall knee high leather boots and matching black corset.

It was hard to see her as the glamorous little imp from Hristea's memory. Emilia sent me this look, a glance so pointed so vicious I remembered that she could read my mind.

Then she smiled, turning her eyes back to Gavril. "Now, I have three dresses I'd like to finish," She sighed, her expression exasperated. Emilia smirked, and I saw the gleam off of the golden strokes of glitter, fanned out like wings around her eyes. "And besides, my brothers aren't very patient."

She gazed at Analeigh nudging her chin towards the door, Gavril's fingers slithered from my arm as Analeigh lead me back to the front hall. Emilia's laughter was mocking and sadistic when we'd got out side, like she'd done something evil.

Analeigh snarled, "You didn't have to do that to him!" The tears came relentlessly down her cheeks now, she looked furious her red hair lashing over her face.

Emilia gasped in mock outrage, hand flying up over her lips. "Did you want your little friend to come or not?" She asked, raising a slender brow. Analeigh's fangs descended, red eyes raging.

"That doesn't mean you needed to play with his thoughts." Analeigh argued, though the anger in her voice had almost entirely faded.

Analeigh lead me around the back of the house, towards the thick brush and trees. I yanked my hand from hers but she didn't seem to care at all, then I saw the figure emerging from the trees, the screaming they left in their wake.

Dorian's scarlet eyes met mine with a force that made me stop in place. There was something totally bad...something totally sinister about that look.

His shirt had been well soaked through, his brown hair turned entirely black, holding fast to his face and neck. My stomach lurched when I saw the deep, ugly stains of blood splattered over his clothes.

Dorian's skin was so pale it made the bright red of his lips scream at me. My heart jumped into my throat when his forked tongue jumped out, to swirl at his lips though it still managed to miss the droplet hoping for the escape of falling from his chin.

Analeigh pranced forward, her dark hair clinging to her face and shoulders, arms springing around his neck. I put the hair out of my face turning to Emilia, she was cringing.

Dorian curled his fingers in her hair, saying something I couldn't hear. Analeigh smiled faintly, rolling up on the tips of her toes to save the dribble of crimson falling down his chin.

I winced, yelping when Emilia's nails gouged into my shoulder. I gripped her wrist, trying to pull free while glancing frantically at Analeigh. She gazed at me, eyes sweeping over Emilia in a way that could've substituted an apology.

Gavril's voice could be heard from the front of the house, my heart leapt into overdrive as a million regretful thoughts pulsed through my head. I screamed, jerking upwards my feet flailing in search of the ground.

Emilia cackled, the last thing I saw was Dorian taking Analeigh's hand before they both vanished and, I shut my eyes. I held onto Emilia's arm in a death grip, digging my nails into her marble skin. Through the feel of cutting through air, I couldn't bring myself to so much as peek up at her.

She laughed, "Don't you like to fly, Sawyer?" Her voice was maniacal, wicked. And I was the perfect, fleshy little baby for her to sink her teeth into.

My stomach flipped, ears popping. With a breathy intake I forced my eyes open, looking down at my dangling feet while they swayed above a sea of green. "Oh God." I gagged, feeling my insides bouncing and banging against each other.

Water.

I saw water. Ugly, greasy, green water churning with hate for me and, lapped up in thrashing, furious waves in an attempt to reach us. Arms of disgusting brown beasts, stretched and floundered, encouraging the thick, green swells.

Tilting my head back, I looked beyond Emilia's large, bat-like, unbelievable wings to stare into the blackening sky. Flinching when a piercing pelt of rain splattered on my cheek, it was just in that second that I felt the rain again – soaking through my clothes, dousing my hair.

Closing my eyes I felt my fingers tremble, sliding across Emilia's slippery skin. They were cold and sore, I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering.

I went through the procedures when entering the bucket. Deep breaths in – savour every intake. Hold jaw firmly in place to lock in the screams. Never close your eyes, it's easier to see yourself sinking than be unprepared for it. Clutch arms of chairs to keep your upper half as still as possible. Hold your breath.

And then, plunge...

Hands were on me.

I kicked out, the first person coming to mind being Dr. Harbour and his jerk off goons. Arching my back I planted one right in Analeigh's stomach, she winced out of habit then, looking surprised she grinned nervously at me.

Pulling my leg in I scrambled back, Analeigh reaching out for me just as I tumbled off the edge of the bed, smacking my head off the floor. The laughter that came shortly after my fall was, totally in itself an insult and I rolled over, crawling up to peek over the edge of the bed at Emilia.

She carried a shimmering fabric over her arm, when she sauntered in her usual way I saw the shine of a rich brown – almost gold undercoat. I narrowed my eyes, standing up as I looked around another gigantic room.

This wasn't dark and creepy like Hristea's, it was bright and full of lavender coloured silks and extremely expensive furniture. I smirked, Aunt Charity would have a fit if she saw this place. I mean, she probably thought her mini McMansion couldn't be beat. This room by itself could eat up her house.

"You kind of passed out a little." Analeigh murmured, tilting her head the way a puppy might. "I'm really sorry about what happened to Gavril."

Emilia snorted loudly, "I'm not." I glowered at her, but she didn't so much as give me a glance, her hands speedily cutting away at the fabric.

"Thank you for coming." Analeigh said with a wide smile, "It's really not as bad as Gavril made it seem. I promise."

Emilia laughed, making her haughty self known. "Oh, it will be – wait until the twins see you with Hristea, they are going to have a fit." She eyed Analeigh as she talked and I could tell by the look on the redhead's face that she'd missed something real important.

I squinted at Emilia, seeing a chance to squeeze some info about Hristea outa her. "The twins?" I emphasised, pushing my damp hair outa my face.

Analeigh bit her lip nervously, shuffling around anxiously. Emilia grinned triumphantly, "His 'pets,' as Dorian likes to call them." She teased, waving the answers I wanted in my face like it was a free ticket to Alice's wonderland.

I nodded for her to continue, Emilia leisurely dragging her fangs over her bottom lip. She knew this was killing me. Gnashing my teeth together I stomped my foot, crossing my arms over my chest.

Emilia giggled, ignoring Analeigh's urging to stop. "They are not people of considerable importance, nothing like me. However, Hristea wasted much of our adolescence courting them." She narrowed her eyes mercilessly at me. "_Bedding_ them. One would come to think he actually cared for them, when in truth they are both pawns willing to play his game."

Analeigh hit herself with the heel of her hand, blowing out a heavy breath. I sucked in a deep breath, clenching my teeth and making fists as I made my way around the hanging bed and the redhead, toward the doors.

Analeigh scampered after me while I stormed out, I couldn't hear her footsteps but I felt her there. "Sawyer, really, Sabina and Sorina aren't important – not anymore. If you knew Hristea like I do you'd understand but-"

I waved my hands at her, "Stop." There was something in my voice a shaky hiccup that, if I didn't know better, was something that came before tears. My nose tingled and I glared at her until she stopped in place, determined to get rid of her before she so much as glimpsed any tears.

She held still, chewing the inside of her lip while I went on. There were so many people, so many uniforms running up and down the halls, barking orders and carrying different objects.

Holding my breath, I waited until I'd pushed through these huge doors and snuck into this giant library to let loose.

What I didn't see coming were the big, weak, loud sobs that came over me. They were like, that overdramatic irritating weeping that the preps back home did when they broke up with their boyfriend of the week.

Inhaling I clenched my teeth, clutching the edge of the shelf beside me, waiting for it all to bypass. Why was I even crying? It's not like I really expected somebody that old, that hot, to never have a girlfriend.

I just don't get why it impacts me so much. As far as I know, I was still undecided about this whole...issue. And besides, maybe this is good I mean, I get out of being a 'pet,' for an ass of a player.

"Ugh." I moaned, "I don't feel good." Gavril was right, I should've stayed home. Now I'm stuck here, have to go to this dumb party with a dude I absolutely hate, just to end up being ditched for two probably gorgeous twins.

Sniffling, I snapped my head up at the sound of laughter. And I mean, not like the Ha, ha laughter I mean the creepy, girly, childlike laughter you hear in those freaky horror movies.

Wiping my eyes I looked at the smudges of eyeliner on my hands and scowled. "Perfect." Shaking my head I continued through the maze, going along with the giggles.

Knowing that, if this was a movie, I'd totally be the girl in the audience shouting for the main character to turn back. I mean, this was so idiotically cliché. Ya know, instead of being smart, the dumb blonde goes toward the mass murderer.

I started cussing when I came to dead ends, not at all in the mood for some stupid Jedi mind game. By the time I got out I was considering using The Force, when I ran into three people and quickly ducked back into the maze.

Clenching my teeth and closing my eyes I held my breath, hoping they didn't see me. Someone cleared their throat and I knew, in some odd little cranny of my head that I'd been caught with flapping red hands.

"It's a little late for that now, Sawyer." Some guy said.

Cursing, I peeked around the corner, gut flopping when I saw Dorian and the other dude that looks like him, but isn't. Hristea's Dad smiled at me, it was an old, familiar smile that made my insides twitch.

Waving, I pretended not to be mortified. "Sup?" I saw her then. The itty-bitty body pressed against Dorian's leg, that I probably wouldn'ta seen if it she wasn't wearing that big doll-like red dress.

An alarm went off in my head. Didn't Analeigh say she killed her kid? 'Cause from this angle she looked very much alive.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Okay, so I won't lie, I am SO gunna have a field day with the next few chapters lol, so lemme know what ya think! Anyways, I hope you like it :3

~Selene

Ps. as for the poll on my profile, it didn't really help, so I think I'm gunna randomly pick one of the four and just start writting to get some ideas out. I dunno.

* * *

Chapter 12

She was small and thin, her small heart-shaped head veiled by a crown of ink black ringlets, so tight they looked like thick couch springs.

Her lips were slender and pale, the colourless curves of them diminutive and undeveloped. She smiled at me, one of those loud toothpaste commercial smiles and, I was kind of surprised to see she didn't have fangs like the others did. Something about the way she looked, the gleam in her eyes...it mirrored Dorian in some eerie way.

Off the bat I guessed she was like three or four.

The dress she wore hugged her puny figure like it was another layer of skin. Two dragons made up of glimmering gold sequins stood as the thick straps of her dress, their beady, black eyes glaring into me. The bright, unmistakeable red of it making her deep, sea green eyes seem to _pop_ right outa her head.

Dorian murmured something to her that I couldn't hear, and speedily turned away when I felt his burning gaze on me. He hoisted her up onto his hip, her ringlets springing this way and that while she clung to him.

They glided right by me like ghosts, for a few seconds I wondered if I'd imagined the whole thing. Octavianus crossed his arms over his chest, his grey blouse creasing.

He looked a hell lot older than he did in Hristea's memory, well, not really. It was just... there was this thing about his eyes that made me think he looked...aged or something.

"My granddaughter." He said, his abyss of a voice making me lunge outa my skin a bit. He grinned, "Maxine." The way the girl's name rolled off his tongue made me smile, but I couldn't figure out why.

I blurted out the first response that came to mind. "She doesn't have fangs." Octavianus cocked a brow at me, lifting a hand to rake his hair back, even still those few bold silver hairs draped around his temples.

He nodded, "No, Undying as young as her do not acquire their fangs for much time." His expression shifted to one of concentration as he dropped into a colossal, stunning stone chair beside a gaping fireplace.

My eyes went to the stack of books he had rested at his side, there's gatta be least fourteen different novels. The pile gently swayed, leaning ever so slightly side to side.

The one book he picked up was so, I dunno, so _seasoned_, with it's yellowing pages and torn spine. He looked real happy with the literature, so I didn't bother to ask why he had chosen that ugly hunk of old paper. I mean, even though I only looked around a little, I guess this whole library was full of books just like that.

Octavianus sat comfortably wearing a thin grey blouse, a rich navy scarf folded tightly around the collar. The sudden colour there really standing out next to the black suspenders, that came up his chest and slipped over his shoulders.

"It's a rarity." He murmured like he wasn't all here, in the room with me. "That Dorian found a True Blood so very similar to his Analeigh."

I coughed, "You mean, that isn't her kid?" What the hell? I didn't pretend not to be seriously confused by what he was saying. Octavianus smiled and shook his head though his eyes never left the page of his book.

So what then? Did he like, sleep around? I gagged a little, first his sister and then Analeigh – eww! I couldn't help but wonder who else had the honour of being a notch on one Dorian's bedposts.

Octavianus didn't hide his laughter, reminding me that he could hear what I was thinking. I seriously have to stop doing that. Was he mad? Mad that I'd said that about his kid?

"No, unfortunately Lilliana did not survive." Octavianus' eyes drifted from the pages of his book, they became dark and reminiscent and sad. "That, Analeigh does not remember, however; I do not think it's coincidence that Dorian discovered Maxine."

I tilted my head, happy to have a distraction that didn't involve macking with Hristea. "You think it was meant to be?" I gnashed my teeth together, "So, what? Like fate?"

Octavianus shook his head, holding a dry grin. "No, not fate, perhaps redemption – a gift soulless creatures such as ourselves do not deserve."

I puckered my lips, pressing my fists into my hips. "From like, God?" The humour in my voice was a vicious one. God, yeah, right.

Octavianus closed his book assessing me thoroughly. I felt bare – bare and uncomfortable. I shifted my weight, determined not to be the first to turn away.

"Indeed, I do believe, from God." He nodded slowly, deliberately. "There's good in the world, Sawyer-" He sighed "-and there is evil. The Undying, could not have manifested from anything pure thus, we have come to believe that the Devil practiced powers only given to God and now we are _this. _Damned_._" Octavianus didn't hesitate when he talked and it freaked me out.

Clenching my teeth I had a gut feeling that he wasn't done yet. I lowered my gaze, looking down at the stack of his books.

"It is what we lack that draws us to Man for more than blood." He breathed, putting his elbow on the arm of his chair, resting his chin on his knuckles and not looking at me. "A soul emancipating a hollow body."

Shaking my head I made a face. "I don't get it, you mean a person that finds a vampire? Yeah, and then you guys eat us."

Octavianus' brows creased, "Not always. We may be incapable of feeling, but we do indeed _feel. _We find peace in love – salvation. It is what is so unique about Analeigh and Maxine, what draws Dorian to them. Undying they may be, but Undying with _human_ _souls_." Octavianus nodded to himself, "Dorian will be a good father."

It was quiet, awkward for a long while and I was just about to scream in order to break the silence, when he spoke again. "As for you and Hristea," He narrowed his vibrant, impossible green eyes at me. "You must understand that he has never felt before. He does not understand yet-" Octavianus looked at me like he could see right into me "-nor do you."

I snorted, angry all of a sudden – needing to prove him wrong. I totally understood. Hristea was a jack ass and that was that, there wasn't any reason to make it any more complicated. Even still, Octavianus only grinned sleepily when I growled, "Think you're so smart."

Stomping out of his little corner I made sure to knock a few books off their shelves when I was leaving. I ran into Ekaterina on my way out, she was all dolled up in this long, flowing, beautiful grey dress – but I couldn't have cared less.

Angrily I bumped into a flow of servants, their uniforms swapped for burgundy tuxes and short mini-dresses. Shoving through their hoards I pushed them out of my way, feeling like I could turn into The Hulk at any second.

I slapped at Analeigh when she took hold of my arm, and I twisted out of her grasp. She looked so shocked by my reaction I burst out laughing at her staggered expression.

"Come with me." She pleaded, so I went, figuring the faster I let her dress me up the sooner I'd get my chance to bail. Analeigh lead me back to Emilia's humongous room, where the Ice Queen herself was getting ready.

There must have been at least six girls swarmed around Emilia, primping and pruning her from every angle. She stood tall and beautiful as ever.

Emilia wore a solid black off-the-shoulders cocktail dress that slithered over her figure cutting into a slant from her left hip down to her right knee.

Her hair was left messily around her shoulders, framing her long face. When she pivoted to glare at me, I saw the shimmer off of the layers of silver glitter spread out about her eyes, into butterfly wings.

She really did look amazing. And I absolutely hated that I could find nothing wrong with her. It was like flipping through a magazine looking for normal pictures of non-anorexic girls, and continuously seeing fake images of perfect people.

Emilia waved the girls off without another glance, her muscular legs not shaking like mine do when she walked towards us. To Analeigh she pointed to a purple bag hanging over the edge of her bed. "Go change." Was all Emilia had to say.

To me, she wrenched me into the middle of the room, standing me with my arms spread out, forbidding me to so much as blink. Her heels clacked as she circled me, I kept my eyes closed the entire time, not wanting to see the nightmare of a dress she had planned for me.

Shivering at the _whoosh _of my vanishing shirt I thanked Octavianus' God for bras. Emilia snarled, drawing a slippery fabric up over my jeans and up to my chest, pulling a zipper up my back.

Emilia pulled at my hair, combing it back out of my face and calling someone in to fix my eyeliner again. I'd totally forgotten about my smudging accident.

Someone gasped, and my eyes flew open. Emilia twirled me in front of a series of mirrors, I glowered at the black and glimmering brown dress I'd seen her carrying before.

My reflection stared back at me as I paced in front of myself. The girl in the mirror followed me, blue eyes squinting while my jeans whispered together.

It was strapless and ruffled and tight. I...I looked great. Analeigh clapped her hands, I didn't see her reflection, so I turned around to her wide smile. But I was looking at her dress.

Analeigh's gown was strapless too, though it came into an extremely low V at her bust. The garment was cloudy white, garnished in the slightest of sparkles.

It was snug and comfortably lined with satin, the buttons fastening her inside were hidden at the back. It was real long unlike Emilia's, and it had a little lace train. In Analeigh's hair were white rose buds, and I was starting to think this party meant a little more than what I thought it did.

She sighed, looking at Emilia who moaned in defeat. "Fine! You look gorgeous, happy?" She folded her arms tightly over her breasts, spinning away to turn her harsh look at her bedroom door.

Dorian peeked his head in. The rest of the door swung wide, bringing with it Hristea and another tall, raven-haired man who's angelic, shy expression made me snicker.

His eyes landed on me and I gasped, seeing thick black lashes and a single dark green eye situated beside a light blue eye.

He then turned to Emilia, his strides lengthening as he approached her, leaning in to press his lips to her cheek. Once his face was positioned away from her she grimaced, hastily returning the gesture and grinning hugely saying in an excited voice, "Viola!"

If she was faking it, she made it very convincing.

Hristea's gaze moved over me, widening when he finally met my eyes, though he never came in. Clenching my teeth I acted as if I didn't notice.

Dorian waltzed towards Analeigh, not pausing for a second when he leaned in she hurried her face away. "You ruined it," She grumbled. "It's bad luck to see me before." Her face reddened bright like a tomato.

Dorian snorted, "I make my own luck." Still tilting her head back to slant his lips over hers, whatever issues Analeigh had before were totally gone now.

Emilia cleared her throat, pushing by Viola to squint vehemently at Dorian. "Are you ready?" She asked, he merely rolled his eyes at her, ignoring her hiss.

Emilia threw something shiny at me, and I scrambled to catch them. I held the huge circular earrings in my palms, just barely able to put them in as she shoved Analeigh and me out the door.

I wondered where Maxine was, if Analeigh even knew about her. She didn't seem to and by the way Dorian was evading me, I figured he probably didn't tell her.

Was that a good thing? Whatever.

Hristea's shoulder grazed mine, a scowl pulling on my features. Clenching my teeth, I tried to ignore him, pushing in the earrings Emilia gave me.

"How come you're not all jazzed up like everybody else?" I asked, trailing behind the crowd Emilia and that dude Viola were leading. Cringing, I started plucking at a nonexistent smear on my jeans while Dorian reached for Analeigh's hand.

Ya know, I'm not Cinderella, Analeigh is – well, minus the red hair and all, she is. She's little, cute, has the perfect boyfriend who actually _is_ taking her to the ball.

And I'm like, the ugly cousin on her evil step-mother's side, three times removed. _Great_. Man, ya know it's good I'm so vain, I mean, if I was anything like one of those dramatic whiny girls I woulda jumped off some kind of tall building already.

I winced when Hristea squeezed my hand, twisting my wrist and pulling my fingers out from between his. Putting my hair out of my face I peeked up at him, Hristea's face was all weird. It was almost as if his lips didn't know whether to smirk or to frown, and his eyes had no idea if they were irritated or like, hurt for real.

His hand jerked out to stop me, and I would've walked through it, if it wasn't like trying to walk through a brick wall. I guess I should've seen this coming right? I just didn't think the ditching part of this evening would be coming so soon.

"Sawyer, what Emilia told you..." He looked at me through narrowed eyes, I couldn't tell if they were like that to hide the emotions there, or if he was just annoyed. "Sabina and Sorina," Hristea shook his head. "They don't mean anything to me – they never have."

Gritting my teeth together I bit into my tongue, hopping the worry that I'd bleed would distract me. Hristea bit his nails into my shoulder, waiting for me to say something.

"Obviously they do, I mean c'mon, they're _twins_. Isn't that like, every guys dream?" I tried to stay nonchalant – whatever that means – and not explode in like, a raging fit.

Hristea laughed humourlessly, "Perhaps when I was seventeen." He lifted his hand from my shoulder crossing his big arms over his bigger chest. "Whatever _this_ is-" He waved his hand between us "-between me and you, I like it."

When he looked at me again, I knew we weren't going to leave this hallway until I agreed. Sighing and slouching, I rolled my shoulders a little, thinking for a good two seconds before answering.

Smirking I peered at him through my lashes, Hristea grinned, already knowing what I was going to say. "I don't forgive you." I murmured, meaning it when I said it, I narrowed my eyes at him, "You know it's 'cause your hot and kiss good that I like you."

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and bringing me against his broad chest. "I don't know why I like you." His voice held humour but the honesty beneath it was easy to spot. "You're a baby compared to me, and you really do have no ass-"

I punched him on the arm, "Hey!" Hristea smirked fiendishly, pivoting away from me to lead us back down the hall. When we reached the next corner I heard laughter and voices of the walking dead, as well as the ethereal sound of music.

He paused in front of a large room, when I leaned around him to glance inside the first thing I saw was Emilia. Her slender fingers twisted in the short bronze hair of a small girl, the girl's high laughter ringing in my ears like wind chimes.

Behind Emilia was Viola, his sweeping black bangs covering his right eye, a large smile on his face while he watched them.

Then I saw Dorian and Analeigh, Dorian in some kind of deep discussion with Octavianus. Ekaterina was squeezing Analeigh's hands in her own, her dark eyes bright and excited.

Hristea pushed me forward, the two of us moving down the hall slowly. The last time I saw this many people in one place I was at a house party with Harlow. Then again, I guess these aren't really _people_.

"Analeigh doesn't know about Maxine yet." Hristea was suddenly saying while I squinted at him, screwing my lips over to the side. "It isn't easy hiding her from Analeigh now that she's Undying. It's going to be a disaster, she doesn't remember much of Lilliana, this is only going to confuse her."

Shrugging a shoulder I mumbled, "Your dad seems to think things are okay." Hristea's arm around me went all hard and stiff, like a big ass steal bar.

He laughed, but not really in a nice way. "Yeah, he does that." I didn't get where this was going. "What you don't see is the lesson behind all this. Dorian's being selfish, because even though he won't admit it, he hates himself for having to kill their baby. He thought that he'd be able to have the best of both worlds."

Shaking my head I clenched my teeth, so what? I mean, Analeigh looked really sad, and obviously she remembers _something_ about their kid. It kind of really pissed me off that Hristea was saying all this.

"She wants this just as much as he does." I growled, hoping he wouldn't say anymore. His fingers pressed into my shoulder, I grit my teeth into each other until my jaw hurt a little.

"He's going to be crowned Dracula tonight. After the wedding, Tiberiu and our Father are going to pull him out and crown him. It was supposed to be announced in front of everyone, but Dorian hates surprises and he doesn't necessarily wanna be king either."

I gawked at him, "What! Like, a zombie king and he gets to tell everybody what to do?" Hristea chuckled and I went on, "I'll do it!"

He looked at me seriously now, "You'd have to be dead." Way to kill my buzz, man. He grinned ruefully when he added, "It's not all it's cracked up to be, I never wanted to lead the mantle and our Father doesn't think Emilia is up to it. Dorian was his choice – he's always been his choice – so he can't back out."

I made a face, "It's not like your Dad isn't like, _not_ going to be there one day, I mean, he's got a butt load of time. He can help him out right?"

Hristea nodded, "Dorian hates it when people try to do anything for him. To him assistance is just the same as calling him weak."

Pressing my lips together, I had to agree with that. I mean, help is good and all, but then there's those people – my Dad – who like help and help and help, until you wanna punch 'em in the mouth!

"Although," Hristea muttered, stopping me just before this massive doorway. I knew it was the ballroom and it was like, nearly impossible to hear him over the music and commotion. "Father wouldn't have given it to him if he wasn't certain."

Flinching when somebody shouted out, "Now entering: Sawyer Quinzelle Cohen and her escort Hristea Demeter Claudiu Dragomir!"

Stumbling over my feet, Hristea dropped his arm to take my hand, closing his big fingers over mine. The whole ballroom was full of people yowling and clapping and doing all that craziness.

Perfect. It's bad enough going down stairs, but it's a frigging nightmare when people are watching you.

My gut rolled, now this feeling, this feeling totally isn't butterflies. This is the biggest-mistake-of-my-life gut feeling, ya know, right before you do something you're definitely going to regret the next day. The suckish thing about it is, I'm sober and _will_ remember to regret it tomorrow.

To make matters worse, these weren't even like human beings. These were like, creatures that could eat me if they wanted to. Now, isn't that comforting?

So, I was all good and fine up till I missed the last step and went down to start macking with the shiny ground. I stared pushing my hands out, but they didn't get there fast enough.

Hristea's low chortle was what caught me, his hands on my biceps, my face probably an inch from his chest. He sighed, lifting me up to stand properly. "You just can't stop yourself from falling for me, huh?"

Jerking my arms out of his, I ignored his toothy grin, crossing my arms over my chest. "So, what now?"

Hristea made this kind of twisted expression, his eyes all narrowed and nervous. His meaty palms smoothed over the undone buttons of his black blouse, then over his hair.

"Now," Hristea's fangs descended. "We get ambushed."

I followed his gaze through the throng of dead people, to the one woman army stomping towards us. Okay, so this chick totally just came out of a Play Boy photo shoot.

Her chaotic, chin-length brown hair bounced while she walked, the nine inch heels of her boots click clacking. She looked like the kind of girl you didn't open a window around, for fear she'd get sucked out and blown away.

Her skin was really tan, and not like the nasty orange kind of fake tan Eliani and her pack of robots have. Before I could take the rest of the tooth pick in, I caught a glimpse of her eyes. They were like a candy brown, with these sharp, abrupt flecks of red around her pupils. They were almost the same as Analeigh's.

When she walked her hips jolted this way and that, like some hardcore runway model. It was easy to tell that she didn't believe in undergarments, just by watching her move.

I had to admit, she was _really _working that cocktail dress of hers, if you could call that teeny scrap of emerald cloth a dress.

When her eyes met mine this thing came up in my stomach, like a whole other person. I'd never felt so angry so...I dunno – what's a good word? So _territorial_. Yeah, that works.

Hristea's teeth snapped together so loud I kind of sprung up at the sound. When I looked him his shoulders had drawn in, his head slightly lowered. I'd seen that kind of movement before, yeah, that one time on National Geographic when they showed a pit-bull in a dog fight.

The woman smirked, showing her pointed teeth, she glared at me. "What's this?" She pointed two finely manicured nails at me, not bothering to give me a second wind. "Your toy for the hour?"

_Ow! _I thought, way to run one home. Why did it hurt my chest so much when she said that?

Hristea's coarse fingers tightened on mine, "Sawyer, Lucinda. Lucinda, Sawyer." His voice was clipped and angry, the kind of rumble you'd probably hear from a volcano near explosion.

She stuck her hand out at me, like she wanted to shake it. I narrowed my eyes at the fingered appendage and sneered. For a second I was wondering whether or not I wanted to bite the damn thing off.

Lucinda brought her hand back with a snicker, totally unscathed. Hristea moved his eyes over me quickly, thoughtfully, only looking away when Lucinda growled out a sigh.

"You know, I thought you were more into women." She grunted, gleaming eyes raking over me in place of claws. "Isn't she a bit _infantile_?"

Hristea snorted, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. "Why? You interested?" I stiffened, Lucinda opening her mouth to respond when he went on. "I'm not that big on whores Lucy, sorry to disappoint you."

She hissed, rolling her eyes. "And Dorian? What of that spoiled little pest of a sister he loves so much? Yes, he seems well into whores." Lucinda cocked a daring brow at Hristea and got exactly what she was looking for.

Hristea's hand snapped out, fingers crushing her throat. Lucinda coughed a mocking laugh, holding tightly onto Hristea's wrist. "You forget, Lucy, what we did to Cestus." He dug his nails into her neck, Lucy grimacing. "Don't think I wouldn't love to pop your pretty little head off."

"Easy." Dorian rested his hand on Hristea's wrist, his crimson eyes running over Lucinda jaggedly. I stood perfectly still, my heart climbing the walls of my throat, eyelids frozen and refusing to close. One by one, Hristea removed his fingers, his brawny arm quivering while his fingers balled into tight, crackling fists.

"Get out of my sight." Dorian snarled, fangs shimmering. Lucy blurred to her feet, narrowing her eyes on him before she whirled around and stomped back into the wave of dancing dead.

Jumping, I moved away from Hristea's hand when his knuckles grazed my skin. Dorian exhaled, spinning on his heels to face us, vivid eyes looking royally pissed off. Hristea peeked through his lashes at his brother and Dorian sighed, "What do you say I behead her, make an example?"

Hristea purred a sinister laugh while he nodded, though his eyes never left mine. I felt cold. Not on the outside, on the outside my skin was hot and crawling. Inside I felt everything locking together, turning to useless chunks of ice in my body.

"Daddy!"

Dorian's expression changed entirely, his red eyes lost to an abyss of vibrant green, a wide smile curving his lips.

Me and Hristea watched him kneel to collect a wild haired girl, her glossy black curls springing against her face. The ruffles of her dress whispered on top of each other, the sound made my skin get all itchy and gross.

She wound her tiny arms around his neck, whispering something in his ear. All I could make out were the high pitched murmurings of an angelic voice.

Dorian ran his thumb over her cheek, his big hand making her head seem small. "Is she now?" The way his voice softened, the only time I could remember hearing it like that was when he talked to Analeigh.

Maxine nodded, peering over her shoulder, sending Hristea and me these curious glances. Dorian cleared his throat, the sound was like, really loud compared to the music that was playing now.

It was too slow, I decided, for a party it was extremely boring.

Dorian gave her little body a squeeze, she giggled. "Hi." Maxine's voice was quiet, her tone playful and vivacious. Her green eyes widened on me, and she sent a fleeting look back at Dorian who sternly shook his head.

Ever feel like the only cupcake in a room of refugees?

Okay, was I wearing a sign only vampires could see? One that had this massive blinking arrow pointing at my face, saying: HEY! ONLY HUMAN IN THE ROOM – RIGHT HERE! YOU KNOW YOU WAAANT IT!

I clenched my teeth together firmly, flexing my fists. Hristea took a huge elephant off my chest when he said, "Hello Maxine, are you enjoying the party?" His tone wasn't like Dorian's, it was forced. It just seemed, I dunno, really fake?

She nodded eagerly, "Yes." She gave an award winning smile. "I like dancing." Something inside me went on fire when she said that, maybe acid reflex? It felt like my chest was burning, it made me feel like cutting, like something was missing.

Maxine started to squirm, her green eyes wide and wound-up. Emilia came into our group, she didn't say anything, just glowered at me and looked at Hristea and Dorian in this kinda thankful way.

With Emilia was the bronze haired girl from before, who twirled around in a great big circle, watching her coral coloured dress fan out.

Dorian set Maxine down and she raced towards the other little girl, grabbing hands and running off. Emilia sighed, resting a hand on her hip and flipping her long hair out. "This isn't much of a wedding, Dorian."

My eyes wandered over to Dorian, he looked irritated. The way his eyebrows mashed together, his forehead creased and, his eye twitched made that clear. "Envy is unbecoming of a princess, sister."

Emilia hissed, "I am not jealous!" She didn't shout, but the way she growled at him made me jump. Dorian rolled his radiant eyes, spinning round and pacing further into the hoard, Emilia stomping after him.

Hristea grunted, "It's never boring around here."

I laughed, wondering how long he would last at my house. "Trust me, you don't know drama." Hristea's eyes lit up, I could practically see the light bulb go off above his head.

Digging in the pocket of his dress pants, Hristea pulled out a knot of white headphones followed by a turquoise iPod. Squinting at it, I examined the scratches all over the thin rectangle and gasped. "Hey! How'd you get that? It's mine!"

He chortled, "You make it sound like it's difficult for me to get through your window." Hristea winked at me, dropping the hunk of junk into my palm, I ran my fingers over the roughened edges. Yeah, this sucker stuck with me through the drunk and the drunker.

Plugging a headphone in, I handed him the other one, spinning through my playlists searching for a good song. Well, I mean, one that could be considered music and not screaming.

Hristea stepped into me, twisting me around and back into his chest, all without messing up my headphones. I liked this, I liked this feeling.

It wasn't anything close to dancing with other guys – grinding with other guys – when I tried to remember what that was like, I couldn't. It just wouldn't come back to me.

Salem on the other hand, I remembered what that was like. That was, in every sense of the word, _dirty_.

Closing my eyes I leaned back into Hristea's chest, he'd gotten really good at leading.

Ever felt like sometimes things are so good you start fading? Like, maybe you could just dissolve into that perfect moment and it'd never, ever end.

I'd do that. Melt away and stuff. Yeah, I think I could spend a few days maybe, here with Hristea. Ya know, until I got sick of him again.

But, you know what they say about good things...

"There you are!" Two voices chimed in flawless, golden toned synchronization.

They gatta end at some point.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

So ummm, I kinda got an idea and ran reeeeeaaal far with it lol, there's actually alot more to this chapter but I had to cut it off at some point, right? But I am really sorry if this chapter seems kinda..._lengthy _lol, but I hope it still turned out good - I liked it anyways :) thanks guys, I'll just...stop typing now.

~Selene

* * *

Chapter 13

They were skinny, tall, tan, Italian and annoyingly beautiful.

Sabina's blonde hair put my whole family to shame. The black of her irises were like two bottomless pits, thick golden lashes curled around each of her almond shaped eye.

Her gold hair curled around her shoulders, looking even brighter against her tawny skin. She wore a red leather corset and these tight matching pants, ending the whole thing with these big purple stilettos that you'd only see on a runway.

Sorina's hair was the exact opposite of her sisters, it was thick and blood red and unruly, folding around her shoulders in loose waves. Sorina wore this real dark, rich purple leather corset, mirroring her sister's outfit and ending it with tall, red open-toe heels.

They had the same eyes, the same slender noses and high cheekbones, the same curvy plump lips. Neither of them were fat or skinny they both were like, super athletic. In a word, they had figures that bikini models could only dream of.

My gut rolled, this was it. This is where I get ditched. Tugging my head phones out I slithered away from Hristea, not meeting his eyes.

I felt queasy and angry, not really a great mix. I dunno, I knew this was gonna happen – it's not like this is some outa the blue thing. So really there's no reason to be so agitated, right? I mean, this was bound to happen, they were here first and all.

Besides, seeing them now makes everything Hristea said before totally untrue. How do you turn these kind of girls down? They're perfect – almost as perfect as Emilia.

Why did I ever even believe him in the first place?

Hristea's big hand wrapped around my elbow, like he was trying to keep me here. Why? I mean, there's no need to make this out to be less than it is, right? I hate it when people do that, ya know, screw you over nicely.

He nodded at each of them, expressionless. "Sawyer, this is-"

I cut right into his sentence, not wanting to go through the stupid introductions. "I _know_ who they are." I hissed, pulling my arm free and scraping my skin across his rough palm.

His brow started to get all wrinkly, and I could tell by the look in his eye that he'd figured it out. Hristea went to say something but I snorted, dragging my fingers through my hair and forcing a smile at the smug twins.

"Sup?" My voice was harsh, and none of us offered to shake hands. The two of them exchanged glances, wide smiles spreading across their faces.

"Sawyer." My name sounded bad on their lips, like it was a disease. It irritated me that they talked at the same time too, probably more than it should.

"So-" They squinted at Hristea "-_this_ is where you've been all evening." Their accents bothered me _so_ much. It pissed me off just to hear them talk to him like that.

Crossing my arms over my chest I started looking for a way out. There's no reason for me to be here and like, annoy myself by watching them.

This soprano kind of music is real agitating anyways, and all these people make me claustrophobic. I felt like the fucking proverbial needle in the hay stack.

Sorina tilted her head, wavy strawberry tresses falling into her face. "We're usually gone by now." The way she said that – the way she said that _singly_, made it all the more evocative.

I groaned, "That's my cue." Moving out of the way of Hristea's grasp I shoved through the mass, messing up peoples dance steps and bumping shoulders with others.

The whole thing made me want to scream.

Tripping over my jeans, I crawled up the first few steps, scurrying to my feet and running up. Slipping past the line up of servants and their fancy getups I burst out into the hall, happy to be out of that disaster.

First of all, I shouldn't have stayed so long. That was my first fuck up. Like, way to stab yourself in the back Sawyer, 'cause that was probably just as fun as being steamrolled.

Pushing my hair back I unclasped the backs of my earrings, leaving them on one of the millions of glamorous tables in the hall. Wiggling out of the ballerina flats Analeigh lent me, I paced down the hall, liking the cool feel of stone and hardwood on my feet.

So, note to self: Never '_just trust_,' Analeigh again.

Why did I think he'd say something to them? They're beautiful – as much as I hate to admit it – and they're probably just as old as he is too. It just wasn't smart to sit through that, hoping that things would I dunno, brighten up? That was retarded.

I wondered around, praying that I'd run into some magical EXIT sign and I could go home. Gavril was right, not that I planned on letting him know that, but he was.

Usually, when I put my hand in the cookie jar I get away with every last cookie. This time, I guess the cookies came back for revenge. God damn metaphors – they never come with a frigging BEWARE OF label or anything.

Skipping down a set of spiralling stairs, I came into another hallway, this one lined with huge paintings. There were a bunch with people I didn't know, and then there were ones with Hristea, Emilia and Dorian.

Yeah, I stopped looking at them after that, focusing on finding my exit. Narrowing my eyes on these two big black doors, I rushed towards them, feet slapping on the cold wood panels.

Gripping the big metal rung door handles, I leaned back and heaved. My feet slipped on the floor as I heaved, grunting and groaning as I forced the doors wide.

A shrill bark made me gasp, dropping each rung and falling back on my butt. I crawled over, rubbing my tailbone while Hristea padded towards me.

It still freaked me out how he'd go from trotting on four legs and being this shaggy mutt of a wolf. To climb up onto two legs, shed all those thick layers of fur, losing the jaws and the long ears. Then stand completely normal and stride towards me like your average, everyday dude.

"Why did you leave?" When he talked it was in that kinda awkward concern, that didn't actually fit his tone. I wasn't buying it this time.

He leaned over to pick me up and I swatted his hands away, pushing myself up and fixing the creases in my dress. "Look, I get it." I breathed, grimacing at the feel of a bruise forming on my ass. "You want the cake and believe me, with them you'll definitely get to eat it too."

Hristea rolled his eyes. "I told you already, Sabina and Sorina aren't what I want." He watched me carefully, folding his enormous flexing arms over his chest.

Clenching my teeth, I pulled my hair out of my face as I said, "What _do_ you want?" I threw an arm up. "I mean, they are pretty much flawless, ya know and...Italian and..." I stopped myself, the rage in my gut surfacing again.

He dragged a coarse thumb over my chin. "I want...." Now it was his turn to trail off. The uncertainty on his face was just the answer I knew he'd give me.

Hristea had no idea what _this_ was, what _we_ were. Not that it mattered anymore. But if he thought I was just going to hang around and just be the salad on the side, then he was definitely more than a bit confused.

I sighed, "I don't want to be here." It was more of a whimper than a statement. "Please, just...leave me alone from now on, I'm so over this game."

Hristea's eyes blazed, the impatience and fury bubbling up in them kind of scared me. His broad chest rose and fell heavily while he blew out a noisy exhale. Hristea nodded, his eyes narrowing. "Come with me then, I'll take you."

Hristea strode down the hall, me shuffling behind him. How awkward is this? I mean, ya know that feeling you get when you're around an ex-boyfriend and it's just – weird?

He stopped suddenly and I got a mouthful of designer fabric, staggering back a step I went to punch him, when I heard the echo of laughter.

Stepping around him, I saw the blur of a black dress, Emilia's long hair falling in her face. When she laughed it was musical and just as textbook faultless as she was.

Her hands out in front of her she burst out laughing again when Dorian, in all his white blouse, black pants, windblown hair glory stepped into the hall growling.

She said something that sounded like, "Dorian don't." To which he just chuckled. And she screamed when he bent over and hoisted her up and over his shoulder. Emilia's dark hair tumbled over her shoulder, her palms smacking against his back while he carried her down the hall.

Hristea made this noise in the back of his throat, that I thought was a gag. He glanced down at me momentarily, pushing is shoulders back as he continued down the hall.

We didn't talk the whole time.

Being carried by a vampire is probably the scariest thing next to water and flying. Hristea moved so fast – so abnormally _fast_, my eyes watered, my stomach knotted and, my heart thundered.

When he finally stopped I had to sit down on the floor of the guest room, with my head between my knees for a good five minutes. He didn't say anything to me, just kind of stood there until I got back up.

So, the low grumble of his voice nearly made me have a heart attack when he said, "Good night Sawyer." I nodded a little, clenching my teeth while he ducked back out my window, the pane falling shut again.

With a moan, I turned to my bed and dropped into the duvet, hoping to smother myself.

Hristea really took what I said to heart, 'cause he didn't come around after Analeigh's birthday-wedding-type-thing. Which...doesn't bother me, I think.

I mean, Gavril didn't seem to have a problem with it. After the first Vampire-less month he actually let me watch a movie with him in his room.

Well, Gavril's room is like, really disgusting and more like a war zone, but I got by.

And I went out to a movie with Alexis and Stellar. That was a disaster. Mainly because Stella let her picked this chick-flick, with no explosions or, gun fights or, blood. I slept through it and they were macking the whole time anyways.

Kellen let me get drunk when he was there and Nick and Kristine weren't – I really liked that. He was cool when he wasn't playing girls, which is 80% of the time, and he totally went into big brother mode with me. That was...odd.

For the most part, my day pretty much consisted of going to school, fighting with Eliani, walking home with Gavril's nonsense, getting drunk, going to bed early, being hung-over and then starting all over again. It got old and stupid fast.

Gavril and I were just coming up the driveway, stopping when we saw Kristine's jeep in the driveway. Why was she home so early? Maybe the school called and ratted on me for skipping period three all week.

We kept walking, the both of us busting into a sprint when we saw an odd little taxi pulled up beside the jeep. Gavril, the giraffe he is, got to the door like ten strides before me.

We pushed through the door, fighting to get to the kitchen first. I threw my backpack at Gavril and he shoved me into the wall, sticking my ankle out I snickered when he tripped.

Kristine was sipping tea in the kitchen when we came in, I froze when I saw another person sitting at the table with her. Gavril cursed at me, still laughing when he saw the guy at the table too.

He got up, arms wide, flashing a smile I knew a little too well.

"S-Salem?" I whispered, stammering.

He nodded, but I didn't see the same person I left back home. This dude wore _Gucci_ pants, and he was wearing _Bench_! His usually unkempt hair was cut and gelled up in this black, shiny disarray.

I stood perfectly still, hoping he wouldn't try to hug me. Not here. Not now. Not like that. Kristine burst out in this deafening hold-your-gut laugh, that made me and Gavril flinch.

She set her tea down, putting her fingers through her hair and giggling when she said. "I knew she'd be surprised!"

Surprised? Surprised! This is a nightmare!

Salem hurried towards me while I forced a smile, trying to figure out who this person was. He hugged me tightly, squeezing me against him and kissing my forehead.

Gavril moved out of the door way, stepping behind Salem to send me this kind of WTF look. I shrugged closing my eyes and counting in my head, praying this would all just go away.

It didn't.

Salem brought me outside again, his lip piercings shimmering in the grey afternoon light. We sat on the grass a little further down the front yard. Salem's smile fading when I drew away from him and said, "What – what are you doing here?"

He shrugged, "We got a few weeks off from school and I had some cash to blow, so we figured might as well get out. I talked a couple of the guys into coming out here, maybe wrestle a few vamps-" Salem winked at me but I shuddered "-we're gonna be here till next weekend, I missed you so much."

Salem leaned in, I ducked, turning my face away and pretending to swat a bug on my leg. He sighed, "So is it as much of a nightmare as you thought?"

I nodded eagerly, still trying to remember who this dude was – he didn't even look like the Salem I remembered. He was such a...such a _prep_. "Yeah, I-I missed you too." The words were fake and I wanted him to know it.

Salem tugged out a handful of grass, the ripping sound mimicking the one in my head. Why did this feel so awkward? All the girls in the movies got all excited and screamed, and junk when their boyfriends surprised them.

"Hey, Sawyer, I did some thinking." Salem murmured, slouching slightly as he sucked in one of the rings on his bottom lip. "After you left," He lifted his hand to rest it on my thigh. "I think that maybe I love-"

I jerked my leg away from him. "Please don't." I gasped, "Don't do that." I wanted to say so much more, I wanted to yell at him and swear at him and make him leave.

Instead I jumped up, running back towards the house leaving him there calling after me. Hurrying inside I slammed and locked the door, ignoring Kristine and Gavril's questions when I bolted up the stairs.

Grabbing an armful of clothes I made my way towards the bathroom, closing and locking the door. Turning the shower on, I yanked my t-shirt over my head, shoving my jeans down and kicking off my socks as I climbed into the shower.

I met them just in time, tilting my head back and letting the hot water rain on my face.

It didn't count as crying if my face was already soaking wet.

Damn it! What kind of sixteen-year-old flies all the way to Transylvania to tell somebody they love them.

Ugh! Salem is such an idiot, I mean, he knows I don't believe in love to begin with. But he's like, two years older than me, what does he know about anything. Why can't he just think I have cooties still?

Jerk, he probably just wanted in my pants. Frigging hormonal boy, he'd probably hump any moving object at this point.

_Would it have made a difference if Hristea said it? _A voice mumbled in the back of my head, I growled, punching the tiled wall.

"No, it wouldn't!" Water netted over my mouth, spilling along my tongue. I looked down at my feet, angrily glaring at the water as it spun down the drain. "He's a vampire. He's a player. He's a total dick." I repeated that over and over again while I washed my hair, making sure it sunk in real good.

Then I thought of how it felt when he put his hand on my thigh. Salem's hand felt like fire, it felt small and heavy and I hated the feel of his touch.

It didn't feel like that when Hristea did it.

"Why would it?" I demanded, stomping my foot. "He was probably just messing with you, like what Emilia did to Gavril." I nodded to myself, that made perfect sense – and Hristea had the power and the mind to do it too.

What a dick. I sighed, carefully smoothing the blue foam of shaving cream over my left leg. "Can't trust them." I said to myself, focusing all my attention on shaving, on not putting too much pressure on the blade.

There was a knock at the door, I didn't answer. "Sawyer, is everything okay?"

Kristine.

Rinsing the foam streaks from my calf, "I'm fine!" I shouted back, "I'm perfect!"

Yeah, that depends on your fucking definition of perfect.

Cutting the water off I stepped out of the shower, pulling on a warm hoodie and some shorts. Combing the knots out of my hair I tied it up in a bun, stuffing the rest of my clothes in the hamper before heading back downstairs.

"So, that's your boyfriend?" Gavril asked, leaning on the counter and tilting his head back to get the last few droplets out of his _Red Bull _can.

I shrugged a shoulder, looking at the clock and going through the eight fat bottles of pills pressed against the backsplash of the counter.

Picking up the second last one, I tried to pronounce the big words on the label beneath my name. They all ended in some kind of _oxide_, like, what was this Latin?

Sneering I spun the cap picking out two oval shaped capsules and knocked then back dry. I knew Gavril was looking at me, so when I glared at him his eyes darted all over the place trying to hide it.

"He's kind of _old_ for you isn't he?" Gavril bit the corner of his lip, crushing the silver-blue can between his awkwardly long fingers. "He's almost my age."

I made a face. So Gavril has issues with me dating a dude two years older than me, and not with having a twenty-year-old in my bed? Well I guess Hristea isn't twenty....

Clenching my teeth I cringed, "Not really." I twisted my lips to the side, opening the little cabinet where Kristine kept all her good wine, smashing my fist on the counter when I realized she'd moved all the bottles.

Gavril snorted, "Don't you go to a gifted school?" I stood up again, grinding my knuckles into my fists while I squinted at him.

"Yeah, it's an all girls private art school," I picked at my nail polish, thinking I'd paint them again later tonight. "Ya know, with the uniforms and crap-" I made my way to the fridge "-We met at a party and stuff, he goes to this other school across town with my friend's brother."

Gavril nodded, crossing his lanky arms over his chest. "Classy. And here I thought you had a thing for dead guys."

Narrowing my eyes on him, I balled my hands into fists. "Ya know, it's none of your frigging business, you hypocrite." Now I just wanted to hurt his feelings. "I was at Analeigh's wedding yesterday, mhm, she's a mommy now."

Gavril's hazel eyes widened, his lips parting in this kinda horrified gawk. I chuckled. "Yeah, I like that look." Stealing an apple from the fridge I left the kitchen, heading for my room.

Sitting on my bed I squeezed the lumpy scars on my wrists, trying to bring back the memory of cutting, the feel of it. Leaning over I ran my fingers over the ugly markings on my ankles.

Shutting my eyes I laid back on the sheets, hauling myself back to the prison that was Black Wood Asylum.

••

Rage ploughed through me almost painfully. I could barely hear the nurse's sweet words over the hammering of my heart. She came nearer; a small screech scratched its way up my throat, as I scurried farther from her.

"Stay the hell away from me." I hissed, she moved at me again, this time way faster than I'd expected, grabbing my arm with forceful hands. Tears overwhelmed me as I slapped her hand away, the pills bouncing across the floor. Jerking my arm free of her grasp, I ran for the door.

Panting, pulling in terrified ragged breaths, the woman called a name I didn't hear. Gripping the door frame I slipped across cold tile and out the door.

My feet slapping against the tiles, two men came out from another black door way, blocking my path. I collapsed under apprehension as they sprinted toward me.

I fought to get my balance back, turning down a hall and running as fast as I could. Colliding with a stretcher, I knocked over the girl on top of it, her body completely soaked, eyes closed, skin icy. Scrambling up again, arms locked around my waist, I thrashed against them.

Squirming, I kicked my feet up, snatching a handful of one of the nurses blonde hair and yanking. She shrieked, dropping my arm and touching the small bald patch near her ear. I laughed, pushing against the other nurse, clawing at his hands as I tried to get out of his grip.

"Sawyer this is all for your own good, you know." Dr. Dawn was promising, if I leaned my head back far enough I could see her walking on the ceiling.

Giving her The Finger, I planted my foot in the chest of the tall man clutching my ankle, kicking him back.

The lights in the hall flashed over my face, until they brought me into the familiar round room and pinned me to the table. The way I saw it, I had about thirty seconds to get out once they tried to tie on the brace.

I got out once, only once, and I'd made it to the gate down the long dirt drive. That, I'll admit, was luck.

The bed was cold and soft, a massive difference to the hot leather straps. Something pricked me, stabbing deeper and deeper. I saw the needle now, the clear gluey liquid going into my shoulder.

Groaning, I felt the thick strap come over my chest, my knees, around my ankles and wrists – tighter than usual. The edges dug into my skin, numbing my fingers and toes.

Dr. Dawn ran her fingers over my jaw, "See? All better now." She gazed around the room, the dark laughter of the nurses making me shiver.

My head started to float, going all over the place. I felt like I was gonna be sick. "You're not going to kick anyone ever again." Dr. Dawn smiled.

••

"Sawyer!"

I sat up rasping, rubbing my eyes I looked blurry-eyed around my dark room. Looking at the window, at the black sky outside, I figured it was dinner.

Sliding up from my bed I paced out into the hall, stumbling numbly downstairs. I wasn't sure if I was hungry, even though Kristine had already put down this big bowl of soup in front of me.

Picking up my spoon I poked one of the white mounds that was a potato, trying to decide between the curl of broccoli staring at me, or the orange lump of a carrot leaning against it.

I dropped my spoon again, knitting my fingers together and pushing my hands between my knees. I always did this at school to hide my scars – or at least I did when I cared what the VIP thought.

Hunching forward, I clenched my teeth, layers of my hair falling into my face. Uncle Nick cleared his throat, "Sawyer, honey, you okay?"

I nodded, "Just a little sleepy." I whispered, staring blankly at the hearty contents in my bowl. Feeling four other pairs of eyes join Nick's as he gazed at me, I made my choice, picking my spoon up again and diving in for a bushy tree of cauliflower.

Jamming it in my mouth, I held my breath while the broth burned my tongue. Digging my nails into my pants I shut my eyes tightly, feeling so fucked up I couldn't remember how to swallow.

My whole head was filled with a mangled mash of pictures, my ears ringing with thousands of echoing screams. Inhaling slowly I chewed and gulped, opening my eyes to look down at the bruises all over my legs. That was normal.

My third grade teacher thought I was being beat at home for the longest time. Frigging doorknob. Haemophiliacs bruise like it's going outa style – or at least I did. Yeah, Harlow used to poke me all the time just to see the red mark turn purple by third period.

"So I heard you had a surprise visitor today," Nick went on, grinning to himself. I forced another smile, feeling extremely sick of having to do it.

I looked at Gavril, Kellen, Kristine and Stellar and sighed. "Yup," my lip popped on the P. "A friend from school." An idea came to me then, and I tried to look bright and happy. "Speaking of Salem, I'm....we're going to hang out tonight so I should probably go."

Uncle Nick frowned, "It's a bit late for a school night Sawyer."

I shook my head, "He's staying at a place near the school and-" I was so happy that Kellen interrupted me.

"And I'm going out anyways – promised I'd give her a lift." He pursed his lips, hazel eyes fixing on me through his lashes. I exhaled, leaning back in my chair.

Uncle Nick shook his head at Kellen, but he just shrugged a shoulder. Nick looked at Kristine hoping she'd back him up, but she just turned to me and grinned.

"Well, Sawyer, _I_ trust you." Nick noisily dropped his spoon on the table crossing his arms over his chest in a huff. Kristine ignored him entirely, while Gavril, Kellen and Stella snickered. "You can go, but I'll be calling every hour."

I narrowed my eyes at her, "I-I don't have a phone." How was she supposed to call me if she couldn't even get a hold of me in the first place?

Aunt Kristine looked a little taken aback when I said that. "Salem gave me the address and number of the hotel he was staying in." She bit her lip in this real familiar way, I figured that's where Gavril got it from. "I...I thought he told you that."

I nodded like I knew, gasping dramatically for special effects. "Oh!" I laughed, "Right! I totally forgot." Kristine cracked a worried smile, her eyes digging into mine looking for answers.

Turning away I mumbled a thank-you over my shoulder and bolted for the stairs, still asking myself what I planned on doing at Salem's hotel once I got there.

Grabbing my backpack I shoved a pair of jeans and a tank top into my bag, adding my tooth brush and makeup bag before I made my way back down the hall.

Kellen already had his shoes on and standing at the door, arguing with Kristine about something, they were both laughing. Kristine smacked his arm just as I came in, when I passed the kitchen Uncle Nick gave me an icy, disapproving glance while telling Gavril to leave Stellar alone.

Ducking out the door, I avoided anymore of Kristine's questioning gazes. As soon as the door shut, a new wave of interrogation started up.

"Gavril told me you had one of the vamp twins in your bed the other day." Kellen didn't sound as pissed off as Gavril had, but the fact that that gangly blond went and gossiped made me furious.

I pressed my lips together, kicking a pebble on the driveway and climbing into the jeep. I placed my bag on my lap while Kellen reached under the seat and pushed it back. I watched impatiently as he leisurely adjusted the steering wheel height then turned the jeep to life.

"You're obviously still alive, I just think you should be warned." Kellen shrugged, fixing his jacket and hair before leaning over his shoulder and reversing down the drive.

Clenching my teeth I glowered at him. "I _know_." My voice was a snarl. "They're evil and blah, blah, blah – drinkin' blood and crap like that."

Kellen chuckled, it was one of those warm-your-heart laughs. Ya know, the kind of thing you'd expect from frigging Santa Claus or something. It kind of reminded me of Uncle Nick when I first got here.

"No, Sawyer, that wasn't what I meant." Kellen paused, glancing both ways before speeding down the street. It was pretty friggin straight Kristine taught him how to drive. "They cause trouble, sure, and they're responsible for a lot of problems around Sighisoara. But if anything, people are the worst."

I made a face, narrowing my eyes on him. If Kellen went into some stupid philosophical lecture right now, I'm gonna grab that wheel and put us in a ditch.

When he looked at me again I didn't try to hide my agitation. Kellen sighed, reading over the list of directions Kristine had given him.

"What I'm saying is: The Undying are scary and all that jazz, but people are capable of a hell lot more hate than they are." Kellen murmured, his eyes tapering and his fingers tautening on the wheel. "Nobody knows that better than Analeigh."

Making a sour face I folded my arms over my chest, leaning up against the window. The glass was cool and hard on my skin, making the crazy abstract thoughts in my head come apart for a bit.

Kellen was quiet for most of the drive, the only times he ever talked was when he'd answer his cell phone. Which was twice. One with some chick named Laurel, the other with a chick named Moira.

At some point along the way I said, "Ya know, guys like you never learn until they run into a dude." To which Kellen tossed his head back and laughed so hard and so infectiously I actually joined in.

He dropped me off at some ritzy hotel. So, the way I figured, Salem couldn't afford the trip here and brought one of his rich friends along. Classy.

Pressing my lips together, I turned back to face the jeep passenger window. Kellen leaned across the console and offered me a slim, navy blue flip phone. I cocked a brow at him and he rolled his eyes.

"It's for emergencies, Dr. Mom might trust you but I don't trust boys." He smirked, "Besides I have two."

I took the phone – I mean, why not? – but now I was curious. "Two phones? Why?" Ignoring the cool night breeze I clutched the strap of my backpack. Kellen screwed his lips over to the side, bringing his big fingers through his surfer hair.

He dug in his pocket for a minute, retrieving another flip phone, this one all shiny and silver. He pointed at the one now in my hand when he said, "Work phone." Then he waved the silver one in his hand and smiled, "Date phone."

Scoffing I rolled my eyes overly dramatic, "Should've known." I stepped back from the jeep, Kellen winked at me as the window came up. I felt him watching me as I headed for the massive glass doors.

There was this gigantic fountain in the lobby and the whole room stunk of expensive air fresheners. The walls were covered in fancy paintings and the ceilings were real high.

The cute, shrivelled little lady behind the desk popped up when I walked over. Her eyes raked over me violently, taking my bruised legs and hoodie like I was some bum. She smiled at me in a way that totally said: "I've been here all day, so this better be good."

I didn't bother working my fake charm on her and just came out and asked for Salem Sheppard. She nodded, and faced the small computer behind the desk, raising a hand for me to be quiet while she called their room.

She went into a pleasant conversation with whoever was on the other line. I picked at my nail polish, nitpicking at her clumpy mascara and thick eyeliner.

Irritated I glared at her, hoping to burn some holes in her head. She put the phone back on the cradle, forcing a grin at me. "If you'll just wait someone will be down with you in a minute."

So I wandered around the lobby, pretending I didn't see the ladies warning glowers, clearly telling me not to touch anything. It made me wanna knock over one of the posh vases on her desk all the more.

The ding of the elevator made both me and the lobby lady relax. I paced over to the parting doors, practicing a smile so I had one that looked real ready for when he came out.

Salem looked me over, his eyebrows arching. I half expected him to come out and hug me, and was thankful when he didn't.

He nodded for me to join him in the elevator and I came forward slowly, only pausing long enough to stick my tongue out at the receptionist.

She gasped, but I was gone before she could do much more. Salem chuckled, leaning against the back wall, his black hair still gelled and awkward.

"Look-" I started to say, but he just shook his head. I clenched my teeth, wondering if this was all I was going to get. Like, he didn't even wanna talk about it?

Well, that works for me. Maybe he'd come to his senses after all. While the elevator took us to the sixth floor, I started thinking. Not really something I like – but hey!

Thing that got me was: I kinda wanna talk about it. Like, isn't that what you do in relationships? Talk and stuff? I mean the L word is something we should definitely be talking about, right?

"No, Salem, that's important." I cringed, "We should..." Looking up at him, at the expression on his face I ended up sighing instead of finishing my sentence.

Salem grinned suddenly, reaching out to touch my cheek. I held my breath to keep from wincing away from his touch. Trying to put a returning smile on my face was hard to do, it just felt off.

The elevator dinged again and we stepped out into a hall that reflected the lobby. With it's thick maroon carpets and blue-grey walls, along with the series of overly decorative photos and, big arrangements of flowers.

Salem brought me to the second last door at the end of the hall, where loud music was playing and people were shouting. Opening the door I stepped inside, looking around the gaudy room. Just the front hall was enough to make me sick. There was too much light and, too many pictures and, flowers and, shiny things.

As Salem lead me down the hall, pass the massive kitchen the place stunk of booze, with it's big fridge and shimmery black countertops, we came into the living room where there were too many people.

I spotted Robert, Harlow's brother, first and instantly stared scanning the room for his sister. There was Katelyn Lionel, all tall tan and gorgeous – as usual. Beside her on the off-white couch was Christopher Jenkins, his rowdy laughter booming over the loud music.

Alyssa Snapps and her twin sister Justine were standing outside on the balcony, their brown hair swaying while they laughed. It was easy to see them through the wall of a window across the room.

Everybody here was older than me, I'd seen them at parties and stuff but like, all these guys went to Salem's school not mine.

Still looking for Harlow – listening for the deafening sound of her laugher, waiting for someone to say her name – I was surprised to see Victoria Saunders coming towards us.

Why the hell was she here?

Pivoting I glared blackly up at Salem, who was going out of his way not to look at me. He cleared his throat and forced a quivering smile when he said, "I-I'll go tell everybody you're here."

I tried to grab him but he moved away too quickly, instead Victoria laughed and enthusiastically shook my hand. Swearing under my breath I yanked my hand out from hers.

Victoria was slim, slimmer than I remembered, she'd cut her hair and it looked like she'd grown a few inches. Clenching my teeth I ran my eyes over her designer jean skirt, her long TNA sweater. Taking in her tan – too much tan if you ask me, anybody would be able to tell it was fake and she'd probably spent a good fifteen minutes in a tanning bed.

Throwing her head to the side, she swung back her long grown-out side bangs and chuckled at me. Her teeth were perfect and I got a good two second glimpse of her retainer, before she closed her mouth again.

"What?" Her cute, plump cheeks rising slightly, her brown eyes turning into these teeny little slits. "You're not going to say hi?" Her voice was cheery and peppy and frigging annoying!

I didn't try to hide my irritation with her, I mean, I don't play nice with people I hate. "Why are you here?" I demanded, voice sharp.

Victoria made a face, pouting melodramatically and shuffling side to side. "Well, Salem invited me and it sounded fun so I came along." She gasped, hands on her chest. "And I really want to add this to my album of Places I've Been."

I snorted, waving my hands about. "Oh, joy." Rolling my eyes I kicked my shoes off, pulling my bag over my shoulder and stepped around her.

Victoria trailed behind me, I could almost feel her flipping that stupid brown hair of hers. Stomping down the two stairs I moved through the living room, ignoring the cheers of, "Sawyer!"

Salem glanced around the room, searching for an escape before I got too close and he wouldn't get the chance. Closing in, I met his fleeting eyes and reached out to snatch his arm.

He groaned, trailing alongside me while I moved down another hall, pushing him into one of the bedrooms. Closing the door behind us I flicked on the light, facing him and shouting, "What the hell!"

Salem winced, hands up in surrender. "I know it looks bad Sawyer-" I cut him off.

"Bad? Bad! I should kill you! Why the hell did you bring _her_ here?" Growling at him, Salem slunk backwards, sitting down on the foot of the bed and sucking in his bottom lip to play with his piercings.

He sighed, staying quiet and waiting for me to cool down. Like that was fucking gonna happen!

"What kind of idiot are you, like, what? You think this is funny?" My hair bounced on my face, clenching my teeth I started looking for something I could throw.

"No, Sawyer," He murmured, watching me pace around the room. "I...look, we all pooled our money together but we didn't have any place to stay so..."

"So, Victoria offered to pay for the hotel as long as she got to tag along." I finished his sentence, Salem nodded solemnly. What? He thought that was gonna save his ass? "Let me get this perfectly straight. You're _ex-girlfriend_ offered to pay for your hotel in some other country, with nobody here except them?" I stabbed my finger at the wall, indicating all his friends out in the living room.

"I know it looks bad." He mumbled, "Really, I do, but I wanted to see you and she was the only way we could come." Salem fixed his hair, moving his hands cautiously through the stiff black disarray. "It's over between me and Vikki, I promise. And it's going to stay that way."

_Vikki_. I scoffed, narrowing my eyes I pulled the door open again, turning the lights out on him and slamming the door. I bumped into Victoria, shoving her into the hall wall. "You listened to everything I said." It wasn't a question, and Victoria didn't play stupid on this one.

"Oh come on Sawyer," She sighed, losing the happy-go-lucky singsong tone and snapping at me. "Like, maybe you should just give this up – admit defeat." Victoria flipped her hair. "Let's face it, I'm perfect and you're a-" She chuckled icily "-well, a diseased freak, to put it mildly. I mean, an asylum? You're a frigging spaz."

I stepped back, closed my fist and took a swing at her. Victoria screamed, ducking out of the way while I put my hand through the wall. I grimaced, wrenching my arm back, quickly examining the soon-to-be bruises all over my hand and, the dry scratches.

Salem came out into the hall, looking between Victoria and me, then at the hole in the drywall. "What the..." His voice trailed off, Salem spinning me around to examine my hand, brushing the dust off.

"Salem I-" Victoria started, but he grunted.

"Take a walk, Victoria, a _long_ one." He hissed, we watched her rush back down the hall, into the crowd that had formed around the end of the hall. Salem sighed, the both of us gazing at the frantic Robert, making his way over. "She's okay, Victoria's just getting under her skin."

Robert ran his hand over my hair, exhaling noisily. "What? Were you trying to bust her face?" He laughed, and it sounded like Harlow, and I wanted to go home.

Nodding silently, I pulled my hand out of Salem's. "I...I need a minute." Stepping back I hurried down the rest of the hall, coming to the bathroom and locking myself inside.

Flicking the light on, I played with the faucet until some warm water started to flow. Washing my hands slowly, I scrubbed my knuckles with the fancy, anti-bacterial hotel soap until both of my hands were shrivelling and pink.

Taking my time I dried with the teal coloured towel draped beside the sink, making sour faces when the too-soft fabric went over tender patches. When I turned to leave, a bright slash of fuchsia caught my eye.

Grumbling under my breath, I picked up the orchid, squinting at the flower like it just might try to eat my face off. "Well," I shrugged, dropping down to the teal bathmat to lean against the tub.

"At least I know you're still out there."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

I tried to keep my promise, I don't think this one took me as long lol ;p and I expect some reviews people, I made this chapter from a suggestion from a reviewer so I hope I did them justice.

~Selene

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Chapter 14

I wouldn't really call it wussing out, I'd call it being smart. Ya know, why should I talk to Salem about love and junk when I don't _love_ him anyways? And after what he did...after bringing _Vikki_ here he didn't even deserve to hear the word mentioned by me.

There's three rooms in the hotel, and there's seven people. Well, I guess eight including me. So everybody basically bunked with everybody, and Salem fell asleep in the armchair in Alyssa and Justine's room.

I slept on the couch. It's a futon really, but it's not like I planned to have _that_ kid in _my_ bed with _me_ after all this crap. I'm sick of Salem, and school tomorrow – though I hate that place – is really looking like my happy place right now.

It took me a good two hours to finally pass out, ya know, after flopping and flipping all over the frigging place. I went into one of those out-cold sleeps where you seriously don't wake up until noon. It was fantastic.

Or, so I thought...

Have you ever dreamt up a random place? Yeah, that's what this was. Only, I'd been here before, this was one of the dances at my school, the valentines one where Beca and the rest of the VIP made everything pink and red and put hearts and candies everywhere.

I remembered this dance, but not a lot of it, I was so plastered that night I can only recall spinning around in circles on the dance floor, and Salem trying to keep me standing straight.

Thing was, in this dream, I wasn't drunk. Nope, I'm pretty frigging coherent right now, like look, ten toes, eight fingers and two thumbs. Hell – I can even walk in a straight line!

Everybody from school's here, everybody that I remember seeing. It was one of those sign in dances where our Nazi of a principal actually let us bring boys. In other words, it was a huge contest to see who could swap spit the longest and who could grind until their legs hurt.

I was kinda glad Salem wasn't part of this dream, I mean, it's bad enough to see him when I'm awake. Problem is–

"Is this better?" What an unfamiliar voice!

I turned around grouchily, not wanting to talk to anybody right now when I saw him. Ya know that expression _my jaw hit the floor_? Well damn, you see this dude and it'll really frigging disconnect.

He was taller than me, but only by maybe a head. And his hair was long – but not like surfer long like Kellen's – I mean _long_, long.

It looked black in the dim light and was just grazing his shoulders. And what shoulders! Like, gatta be some kind of star quarterback deal going on right now.

He looked my age, with the smooth features and fading baby fat. His eyes were large and abnormally green, and the way he smiled...

"Oh my God!" I staggered back a step, "Whoa!" I gawked at Hristea, at the way he crossed his arms over his blue blouse, at the way he laughed – so...so not like a one hundred-twenty-six-year-old.

I felt my face scrunch, "But...how?" I shook my head, hands flying up over my mouth. How did somebody that flipping massive get so, I dunno, _small_ and _juvenile_?

"You're dreaming Sawyer, you're most receptive to me in sleep." He shrugged a not-yet-rock shoulder and tilted his head, long hair curving over the almost-square curve of his jaw. "Here I can manipulate what you see, what you hear. Although-" He gave himself a once-over "-This...version of me, is quite real. Perhaps not anymore, but it once was."

I blinked once. Twice. Waiting for him to blow up into smoke and vanish like some terrible practical joke. But he didn't, Hristea stayed tall, lean and a teenager no matter how many times I blinked.

"You're freaking me out." I coughed, "How-how old are you?" My lips felt clumsy and stupid on my face, and my voice sounded weak and confused.

He sighed, "Fourteen." Then Hristea made a face, "My adolescence kind of blurred by in a flourish of legs and breasts, so really it's not..." He stopped himself, lifting a hand and pinching the bridge of his nose.

This is nice. This is so, ya know, great. Really it is. I think I'm used to this now, Hristea is Hristea, he's still a dick and a player and I hate him. Just 'cause he got young and hot doesn't change anything.

"Can you just-" I tilted my head side to side "-go away. Get out of my head and just...leave me alone once and for all. I'm not interested in old people, really I'm not."

Pivoting on the balls of my feet I started walking for the exit. This is my dream, so I can make up whatever I want to, and if I wanna make up a place where Hristea can't go then I bloody well will.

I tripped, falling on my hands and knees, squealing a little when I realized I wasn't at my valentines dance anymore. This was more like a....like a what? Like a meadow?

No, like, an endless sea of flowers is more accurate.

Trees and flowers and rolling hills that went on for as far as I could see. This place never ended, there was no escape! But I didn't think this up, I was imagining my cell at Black Wood.

Pushing myself up I stood, rubbing at the grass stains on my knees. "You can't go where I'm not." I jumped, whirling around to face the actually Hristea, the one that's a frigging giant. "It's impossible."

I growled, "What's your damage?" Stepping back, I flinched at the feel of grass sweeping over my bare legs. "Like, is _rejection_ not in your vocabulary?"

Hristea chuckled, his shoulders shaking. "To be blunt," He murmured, coming towards me while I reversed. "The angrier you get and the more you reject, kind of turns me on. You're a challenge – it's extremely exciting."

I groaned, throwing my head back and stomping my foot. "Why are you so frigging honest?" Putting my hair out of my face I squinted at him. "Besides what happened to your frigging Italian threesome, that looked like it was gonna be a party."

Hristea pursed his lips, his bright eyes narrowing. "Since I'm being honest, I'll say: yeah it was." I scoffed, not wanting to hear anymore, but that didn't stop him. "It was also tedious, lacklustre, lifeless and, very boring. Now I'm just jaded."

Ever want to smack someone so hard you hope their mouth will fly off? Why the hell did he think I wanted to know any of this, like it held any kind of importance or whatever to me. What did he want, a pat on the back?

"I'm telling you because it is important." He said matter-of-factly.

I screamed, stomping forward and shoving him. "Get out of my head!"

His arms came out and crushed me to him. Thrashing, I kicked my legs up, pushing against his chest as hard as I could, and still not getting anywhere.

Hristea put his face in my hair. "It's important because I don't want them – they're both pathetic wastes of Undying blood." His voice got low and hostile near the end, Hristea exhaling heavily through his teeth. "It's important because I have to show you how much I need you."

Those words sounded really weird coming out of his mouth. Not like romantic weird where everybody goes, "awww!" I mean like, weird that he would say something like that. The words didn't seem to fit there, like it was way, way....out of character?

I inhaled slowly, gradually putting my weight in his arms, until Hristea slowly let me go. He had that kind of mixed emotions thing going on, on his face again as if even he sort of thought that was odd.

Hristea shook his head, looking frustrated. His fangs showed when he spoke, and his voice was stiff and robotic. "I just need you to give me a chance." He pressed his lips together, green eyes all distant and dark like he was trying to figure out a really long math equation in his head.

I rolled my eyes, "No." He snapped his teeth together, making me stumble backwards, hands up to protect my throat.

Hristea's eyes were light all of a sudden, and not in the bright happy way either. I mean, scary milky cloud light. The colour clashed with the luminous green, it made my heart leap into my throat.

"Why?" He snarled, it wasn't natural. It sounded twice as furious as he looked, it was more like a trapped roar.

My voice shook, my gaze lowering to the swaying green grass and colourful flowers. "Because I tried to and you screwed me over royally." I tried to make it a frightening hiss, but I was too scared.

He growled, "This is different!" But it isn't, I mean, Sabina and Sorina were beautiful. And why would I even bother trying to compete with them for Hristea? It didn't seem worth it – he didn't seem worth it.

I shook my head, not looking at him. Standing my ground, I held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut and waiting for him to go berserk or something.

There was a thump, it was so heavy and loud I opened my eyes, gasping when I saw him kneeling before me. "This is different." He clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw surging crazily. "I love..." He shook his head. "I _need_ this."

I cringed, "Stop it." Hristea gave me the very frigging definition of The Puppy-dog Look and I swore. "I have a boyfriend," After I said that Hristea tossed his head back and chortled.

"Yes, Salem. The _inadequate_ one." Hristea rose to his feet, leaning in closer than I was really comfortable with. "How could I forget?" He spoke through his teeth, looking at me through narrowed eyes.

Nodding quietly, I kinda waited for the tense air between us to go away. When it didn't I whispered, "So it'll never work."

But Hristea snorted, brow creasing, lip twitching. "You mean the one who got his ex-girlfriend's daddy to pay for their flight here, and the hotel. What a keeper." Hristea's words stung me real deep down, he just made me feel real small and real stupid.

Then I was angry. Angry because he was right. Hristea inclined himself toward me, pressing his forehead against mine. His skin burned me, boiling my blood and making my heart jump and stop, and stop and jump.

"Just let me do this." He murmured, his words were soft but the undertone was harsh. "I can't ruin it twice. Just..." He breathed, "Give me a chance."

Part of me was scoffing, telling me to get the hell away from him and wake up. None of this was real in the first place, just because Hristea can get under my skin doesn't mean there's anything there for us.

The other part? Well, my gut kind of twitched with anticipation, my heart kind of stopped. _I needed to do this_. I told myself here. This is right – something about this just _fits_.

Tilting my head, I had to roll up on my tiptoes a bit to reach him completely. This kiss was odd, ya know, like just strange. It was slow and, long and, smooth and, soft and...I dunno, perfect?

Putting myself away from him again, I pressed my lips together, clenching my teeth. I felt like I needed to think about this, mull it over or something. That's normal isn't it?

Hristea wrapped his arms around me – the frigging steel bands they are when he murmured, "I'll come for your answer tomorrow night."

Just like that he'd vanished, as if he was never even there in the first place. Heaving a noisy breath I closed my eyes, counting twelve seconds slowly in my head, eyes fluttering open I stared up at the high beige ceiling of the hotel.

Rolling over, I sat up to stare at the droopy blue-silver drapes, at the purple light pouring through them. If anything felt like a dream right now, it was this. I mean, waking up from a place so perfect and right and coming back to this dump, kinda makes you question reality, ya know?

Sluggishly moving off the futon, I cracked my back, pulled my fingers through my hair and stood up. I hoped everybody was still asleep, the last thing I wanted was to run into Salem right now.

So I crept down the hall, brushed my teeth and washed my face, quickly changing into some low riding jeans, my tank-top and a touque.

I didn't think it'd be so easy to get outa there, I mean, you'd think with all those people somebody woulda heard me or something. Not that I cared, if I could avoid pointless crap like the obvious drama between Salem and Victoria, then like, all the power to me and stuff.

Salem and Victoria. _Vikki_. As I came into the too-swanky hallway and marched towards the elevator I started thinking. What would I do if they hooked up again? I'd be pissed for sure but I guess it wouldn't count as cheating really, because I'd already run that play. I'd already cheated.

Ugh! Relationships are so stupid!

The elevator dinged and brought me to the lobby, when I glared at the receptionist all I got in return was a cheerful, "Good morning!"

Then I realized it wasn't that old prune from last night after all, it was a cute, tall brunette with big, flashy grey eyes and, big glamorous lips covered in all this sparkly lip-gloss. She straightened her uniform and waved at me while I crossed the room and slunk out the doors.

It was cool, the clouds were knit together, all thick and fluffy. There was a slight silver trim around the edges, showing teeny rays of sunlight. The clouds smothered it out, trapping the gold light behind a mask of murky grey.

A cool wind moved my hair into my face, nipping at my bare arms and seeping through my tank-top. How typical.

Really, you wouldn't believe how many people are like, out and about at 7:30 in Transylvania. With their harsh, thick accents and loud warm laughter, it was like I'd got up at noon in frigging Happy Land.

But they weren't happy, they were all like suspicious and junk, yeah, that's it. Everybody kept looking up and darting their eyes around like some kinda disaster was gonna go down at any second.

And I remembered why – the vamps. People lived in constant fear of the bloodsucker that I was....dating? Yeah, that works. I mean, I'd never seen Dorian or Emilia in action and, frankly I couldn't see Analeigh swatting a frigging mosquito. These people knew more than I did clearly, had stories that could probably go on for days.

Hristea's words sounded in my head, "_Maimed hundreds. Slaughtered thousands..."_ and I broke it in chills.

How could I make such a huge decision about somebody like that? Somebody that hurt people, and _killed_ people – ruined people's lives again and again. What made him think he deserved me in the first place?

How could I have even thought about really dating a vampire? I stopped myself in my tracks, staring down at the lumpy sidewalk gone black from earlier rain.

Hristea is a vampire. And not frigging fictional Dracula, dungeons and wads of garlic, I mean like hardcore, evil, suck-your-blood vampire.

And some part of me was into that. Huh, you learn something new every day.

Walking around the narrow, old streets I figured I was definitely gonna be late for first period. It took me a while to find mine and Gavril's usual route, I was coming around a corner when I heard this deafening scream.

The kind that turned your blood to ice, made your skin scrawl and your heart stop. I couldn't figure out how to move my legs again, as my eyes started racing around in search of the person.

There was a group of people all crowded at the front of a small, modest looking house. An ambulance stood outside on the curb, no sirens, no flashy lights. That's a bad thing, right?

I crept forward a little, off the sidewalk and a ways across the street to join the mob. There was a body strapped on the stretcher they loaded into the back of the ambulance, the body covered by a creepy white veil.

The wind blew and I turned my head to duck out of the harsh breeze, catching the shimmer off a silver cross, clutched in a woman's hand. I stared at the thick, shining crucifix for a moment, squinting my eyes and examining the body etched into it, spread out across the cross like it was hanging there.

Turning back to the stretcher, the wind whipped up the white blanket, revealing the boy's face. A lady cried out, reaching for him, while being held back in a man's arms.

The boy was older than me, but not by much. His skin was the colour of snow, and his blue eyes pierced through the crowd and right into me.

They were dead, empty, hypnotic eyes that clawed at the soul inside me, it made my heart stop completely for the four seconds our gazes converged.

There was silence in those four seconds. A deadly, disturbing stillness that chilled me all the way to my bones. The wind stopped, the rustle of leaves on tall trees stopped, the woman's wails stopped.

I stared at the crescent mark under his jaw. At the eerie, blood encrusted bite mark over his pulse.

Staggering back out of the group, I ran my fingers under my eyes where I thought I felt tears and, came across nothing but soft chubby skin.

Resting my palm over my chest, I felt the hard, thundering pound of my heart. Striding along sleepily, I made my way up the stairs and into the school.

Not bothering to stop by my locker, I slunk down the halls feeling half empty. I couldn't get those creepy, vacant blue eyes out of my head, it was almost as if they'd been branded into my skull or something.

My clammy fingers trembled on the classroom doorknob, it was hard to open the door. It was just so heavy.

"Good to finally have you with us, Miss Cohen." The teacher growled, I moved through the maze of desks to the back corner, dropping my bag under my chair and sitting quietly.

Those big, horrified blue eyes haunted me no matter where I looked or how long I closed my eyes. Reaching up, I felt my pulse where the boy had been bitten.

"_Maimed hundreds. Slaughtered thousands..." _

I've fallen so many times. Sometimes I like it, just that moment where everything stops, and it's just so, so..._infinite. _

I've never been scared of falling. When I'm falling I'm at peace, it's when you hit the ground when everything comes apart. Ya know, if I could just keep falling – if there wasn't any place to land, I don't think I'd be scared at all.

Dad used to worry a lot, ya know, I just jumped when I was a kid. Off of everything, anything that was high. I broke my arm one time Dad went like, ape shit until it got all better. And I twisted my wrist real bad another time – my joints are like super weak and stuff.

I loved that adrenaline of being nowhere and everywhere at the same time, slipping through a place that was between the sky and the earth. Like Limbo – I think that's what it's called anyways. Or is that where ghosts are?

Screw it.

Anyway the point is: the whole falling thing isn't the problem, when I'm falling I can release. It's just when I come back to the ground that causes all the problems.

I kind of wished for falling. That I could just go right through the stupid hall tiles, right through the whole planet and just keep falling. Now that'd be a rush.

Coming up to my locker and messing around with the sticky lock until it cracked, I fixed my touque in the teeny mirror Kristine had got me at the dollar store. Pursing my lips I dug around under my bag, through a mess of chocolate bar wrappers, pushed my fingers under a couple books, until I felt the sharp, slippery edge of paper.

Drawing out the picture of Hristea and wiping away a few chocolate crumbs, I stared into the unnatural white eyes of the wolf. The woman's scream from this morning echoed in my ears, the photo falling from my twitching fingers.

I raced to cover my ears. Pressing my forehead up against the cold metal of the locker beside mine, fighting with the ghostly blue eyes branded into my mind. Clenching my teeth, I tried to drown the noise by humming, banging my palm on the locker.

The screeches got louder before they faded, and stopped. Leaning away from the lockers I stooped to pick up Hristea's picture, crumpling it in my fist before throwing it back to where it once was.

I picked up my English binder, locking up my locker and heading off to class. I acted like I couldn't see the people who were staring at me, who laughed at whispered. They all had Victoria's voice. And it was hard not to leave a trail of adult teeth all the way to my third period class.

Pausing outside the door, I heard the scream again. Stumbling back a step, and into some kid who pushed me forward. Nails digging into the fabric of my binder I watched him bump by me and into the room.

It seemed so easy, walking in. But it wasn't – it was almost impossible. There were voices, voices only I could hear. They were violent whispers from people who clutched the big crucifixes around their necks.

But this was more real...

Spinning on the balls of my feet, I hurried down another hallway, avoiding teachers and slinking around like some criminal.

Binder under my arm, I stepped outside the cafeteria into the cool air. It was quiet for the most part, until someone yelped. The sound made the hair on my arms stand up, and I turned jerkily to see Eliani, Bianca and Danika push a girl up against the brick wall.

The girl said something I didn't understand, it was a blurb of jumbled pleas, but Eliani and her pack just laughed. In Danika's hand were a pair of thick glasses, she crushed them and smirked when the plastic lenses popped out to land on the grass.

Ever have those moments where you just..._break_?

I don't remember moving, or dropping my binder, or shoving Danika and Bianca. But I was holding Eliani's shoulders, gripping her _Juicy _t-shirt in my hands and, rolling us both to the ground before I realized it.

She squealed. I saw the confusion on her face before I dropped my fist on it. It took her a good long ten seconds to recover before she was kneeing me in the back and ripping at my hair.

Eliani flipped us over, her kneecaps grinding into my sides. Groaning, I snatched her wrists, thinking I could overpower her. Nope. Three long, bubblegum pink nails grated across my chin while I tried to squirm out from under her.

Clawing at her jeans, I tried to sit up against her forceful hands. Someone cheered, my head slung to the side, cheek searing. I could almost count all five of Eliani's fingers imprinted on my cheek.

Closing my eyes, I put myself in Black Wood, remembering how I got out of the restraining straps. Sucking on my tongue I hunched off the ground to spit in Eliani's face. She screamed, reaching up to scrub her eye while I sat up and threw her to the left and off of me.

My ribs hurt where her legs had been squeezing me and it was hard to move quickly. She rolled a fair bit in a mess of blonde hair and a terrible tan, Eliani struggled to get her balance again.

Picturing one of the nurses in my head, I let her run at me inhaling a shuddering breath before planting my foot in her stomach. Eliani fell back a bit, lurching over to hold her gut, someone seized my forearm and yanked at my hair.

With a wince I got a good upside down view of Bianca's furious face, grunting as I whirled under her arm, lunging into her stomach so we both fell with a hard _thump_ on the ground. Bianca started to whimper while I pushed up off of her, her hand came instantly out of my hair and I left her on the grass like that.

Glancing between Danika and teary eyed Eliani, I sprinted at an unsuspecting Danika, who wailed. One time. That's all it took, and she was clocked.

The girl against the wall squinted at us, her messy black hair falling in her face. Her bottom lip was split and bleeding, a big blue bruise starting to form under her left eye. She wiped at her nose, not daring to come between us.

Clenching my teeth, I stood still on shaking legs when Eliani charged towards me. Her knee hit my stomach, knocking the wind clean outa me, and rocking me forward into her.

Eliani coughed out this vile snicker, her hands coming down on my shoulders. Moving as fast as I could, I Charlie-horsed her in the thigh. Squeezing my eyes shut, closing my fingers on her silky hair, tilting my head back and slamming my forehead into hers.

Whining, the both of us reeled back, my hands flew up to my face touching a tender soon-to-be-goose-egg. Eliani fell to her ass on the grass, moaning quietly and crying.

My whole body felt on fire. My heart was racing, adrenaline ploughed through my veins, speeding with the wild thing in my chest. It felt amazing – I felt amazing.

I remembered this, the agonizing exhilaration. Touching my knuckles, that were surprisingly like, unscathed – not like my whole frigging torso!

Sighing I fell to my knees, slouching back on my butt and sitting on the grass, letting the breeze rake through my hair and over the dry scratches on my chin.

I was falling again.

"Suspended!" Uncle Nick shouted, it was like the whole kitchen shook when he was angry. It reminded me of Dad.

I nodded, pressing the cold icepack harder on my forehead. "Yeah," I shrugged. "The VP said it was for like, a week and blah, blah, blah – ow!" Grimacing I tried not to make an expression, keeping my face as still as possible.

Uncle Nick paced around the kitchen, grumbling angrily to himself. "What am I going to do with you?" He muttered, dragging his fingers through his hair impatiently.

Shrugging a shoulder I screwed my lips to the side. "You could...send me to my room and let Aunt Kristine deal with me?" I murmured, thinking she'd probably just lecture me on why violence is bad and all that dumbness.

Uncle Nick nodded eagerly, obviously not knowing how to punish a fourteen-year-old girl. "Good plan." He half-grinned, then put on his wrathful expression again and pointed at the stairs. "Now go to your room!"

Rolling my eyes, I got up from the kitchen table, heading out to the hall and going upstairs. I stopped at Gavril's room, leaning in the door to see him on the computer. He glanced up at me and laughed, "You're on YouTube."

Grinning I leaned on the doorframe, "How many hits?" I watched Gavril's big hand – pretty much swallowing the mouse – he scrolled down and chuckled. "Everybody at school, minus a group of people-" Gavril looked at me knowingly "-about 800."

With a laugh I continued down the hall, opening my door and coming inside. I'd just reached the bed when I saw a dribble of blood just under my window. My stomach lurched, the trail of crimson drops went from my window, staggered across the carpet, all the way to the closet that I didn't use.

Hands shaking, I crept toward the closet, a scream well prepared in my throat when I pulled the doors open. Exhaling heavily when I didn't see anything, I almost jumped outa my skin when a pair of green eyes fluttered wide and fixed on me.

"Hristea?"


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Welll! I dunno if people are still flicking back and forth between "In Good Blood," still but just so ya know, I read through it and was kind of...embarrassed lol, so I'm gunna edit it A LOT :) fix up my stupid mistakes.

~Selene

* * *

Chapter 15

"Guess again, princess." Emilia hunched over, her hands landing heavily on my shoulder. Blood slipped down from the right corner of her mouth, her long dark hair matted and tangled in her face.

"Jesus!" I gasped, stepping back a bit. "You scared me." Emilia snorted, stumbling out of the cramped closet.

"Wow," I laughed, "What chewed you up?" Emilia's cashmere sweater looked like it'd been burned away, there was a spot on her arm where her sleeve had been gobbled up.

I could see her ivory skin through the gaping black hole, it was like somebody tried to light her sweater on fire. Half the sleeve was chard!

She hissed at me, pushing me aside to perch on the edge of my bed. She looked awkward there, ya know, I mean she's usually all high and mighty and pretty and stuff. Talk about hero to zero.

Emilia snorted, looking at her hands. "I got caught out in the sun too long for your information." Her words were simple but they held that kind of sharpness like Eliani's nails.

I made a face, "So shouldn't you be like...dead and stuff?" Puckering my lips I crossed my arms over my chest, eyes on the floor staring at the trail of blood leading to my closet. How was I gonna hide this from Kristine?

Emilia nodded, "I would have been, yes." She sighed, shaking as she lifted herself from my bed to hobble over to my mirror. Though she couldn't see herself Emilia still gasped, snatching my brush from my dresser and tearing the bristles through her hair.

I couldn't even see her hand moving, she was going so fast. Emilia slapped my brush back down on the dresser, pulling her fingers through her now long, lush, completely unknotted brown hair. She flipped it over her shoulder, pivoting on the ball of her bare foot to smirk at me. "Hristea saved me."

Clenching my teeth I tried not to let myself think about any of the anger I felt burning up inside me. Just his name got me pissed off, I balled my hands into fists angrily counting backward from 100 in my head.

Emilia made eyes at me, the incredible vibrant green. Her eyes reflected my irritation, and in an instant she was hissing at me. My skin crawled, but before I could say anything she had me pinned up against the wall.

Grimacing, I clung to Emilia's wrist my feet flailing while they looked for ground. She narrowed her eyes at me, though her expression stayed surprisingly mellow.

"If you hurt my baby brother, I'll tear your eyes out and use them as paper weights. Understand." Her tone was sadistically promising and I tried to nod, gasping for breath.

She dropped me then, watching me land in a heap on the carpet. My head throbbed more now than before, and I reached up to touch the giant goose egg on my forehead, then the sore imprints on my neck.

Emilia backed away from me. When I stood I fought off the urge to punch her in the mouth. Emilia snorted, reading my mind while she crossed her arms over her chest, pacing across the room to stand in front of my window.

Swallowing slowly, I coughed up a heavy, dry wheeze and pressed my lips together. If I ever got the chance to be as strong as her, I'd frigging tear her apart.

Emilia cleared her throat loud enough to make it rude. Glancing at me over her shoulder, her hair in her face when she said, "You know, you smell of him."

Looking at her from the corners of my eyes I lifted the collar of my tank top, sniffing the fabric but smelling nothing but my perfume. Emilia rolled her eyes, "Humans cannot smell it." Her words were sharp, "Can't smell blood."

My blood? I made a face, then remembered. Clenching my teeth until my jaw hurt, I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped my hand where I'd cut myself on the rock. Emilia chuckled, I didn't see her, but I could pretty much _hear_ her smug expression.

"And so the beast howls in your veins." She murmured, my fingers moved up from my palm to my wrist. I pinched one of my fat scars, wanting to be rid of him.

I felt tainted somehow. I felt dirty and _inhuman_. Like I was a walking illness or something. He was in me...literally _inside_ of me, moving under my skin. It made me wanna cut.

Pushing the thought out of my head I let go of my arm, locking all the thoughts of razor blades and bleeding away. Sucking in a big breath and holding it a few seconds before blowing it out. "So why did he bring you here?" I asked lowly, looking at her carefully. "Why didn't he just take you back to your frigging castle?"

Emilia sighed, "Hristea thought I would be safe here." She turned to gaze at me a moment. "And if he had tried to carry me back, both our lives would have been in jeopardy."

Quickly I peered around the room. "So then, where is he?" Emilia moved her weight between her feet, I saw her shoulders tense before she sighed again.

"I'm not sure." Her voice was ghostly, but not even a tad bit worried. I felt my face scrunch together, I felt weird standing here talking to her. It seemed like forever since I'd last saw her at the vamp party.

"How come you're not freaking out then?" I went on, lifting a hand to touch the tender patches on my throat. Emilia laughed quietly, her hair swayed when she shook her head.

"Because he is with Dorian. If they can last a few hours without trying to kill each other, Hristea should be all right." She pivoted on the ball of her right foot, facing me, her hand over her heart. "I would know if either were in danger."

I stared at one of the dark blood stains in my carpet. "I saw a boy this mor-" I cut myself off, hands coming up over my ears when the woman's scream echoed through my thoughts.

Empty blue eyes flashed in my mind. Empty, dead, _horrified_ eyes.

"They were..." It was hard to speak. "They were carrying his body out into an ambulance...he'd been bitten." My words were clipped and fast, I tried to get it over with as fast as I could. "Did you have anything to do...to do with his...h-his murder?"

Emilia barked a wicked laugh. "16 years of age, 5"8, brown hair, beautiful misty blue eyes?" I couldn't breathe. Emilia smirked icily. "Yes, Sawyer, I had something to do with his murder."

I wanted to destroy her.

I was so angry that, with a wordless scream, I snatched up the lamp on my dresser and threw it at the wall.

Emilia didn't so much as flinch, though it couldn't have broke more than a foot or so from where she stood. Brown ceramic pieces fell to the carpet by her feet, the shattered clear glass of the light bulb scattered across the floor.

She grinned at me, "Father's right." She held her chin between her index finger and thumb. "You are a good pair."

Out of breath, I rasped a curse at her, but she just winked at me. I saw the window open, shut, and she was gone. I raced towards the glass, stilling the fluttering curtains and staring out into the nearing night.

The clouds were all pink and orange and blue, blending in together like some massive paint pallet. The big red orb of a sun was just ducking down behind a forest of green and a city of lights and tall, old buildings.

Breathing heavily, I was careful not to step on any of the glass shards as I made my way out of the room and into the hall. Once I'd gotten to the stairs, I heard Uncle Nick's voice and Kristine's laughter, climbing down I paused a few steps from the doorway.

My face felt all hot and blushy when I heard them kissing. I cringed, turning for the stairs again, when Kristine leaned out the doorway, curling her finger at me.

What was she, a frigging bat in a previous life?

Like she heard my sound waves or some shit.

I came into the kitchen, feeling totally awkward standing there in front of her. Uncle Nick was starting to set the table, the loud clatter of forks and knives making me wince.

"Do you wanna tell me about this suspension of yours?" Kristine tilted her head, eyes narrowed on me. She didn't seem angry – that or she'd gotten better at hiding it.

I shrugged, playing with my hair to try and cover up the marks on my neck I was sure Emilia's hand had left. Kristine didn't seem to notice, with her bright eyes and soft expression. You'd never guess she lived in a psycho country, infested with bloodsuckers, with her four crazy boys.

"See um, I got in a fight." I murmured, Kristine nodded to prompt me on. "There were some girls...bullying another girl and I just kind of..." I shrugged again, not really having anything to say to her.

Kristine sighed, glancing over her shoulder at Nick, who was fumbling with the tablecloth. She grinned, "It's upside down." Kristine said, trying not to laugh.

Nick's face reddened and all I saw in his face was Gavril. It kind of freaked me out how much alike they looked when Uncle Nick made that expression. But he just turned his back to us, playing with the flimsy green cloth again.

When she looked at me again she pulled the smile back in. Kristine put her hand on my shoulder, shaking her head in a way that made her hair swipe across her face. "You're no hero Sawyer, and I know who you fought with but-" She pursed her lips "-I want to think that your heart was somewhat in the right place. I don't approve, though what's done cannot be undone so, I'm going to ground you for a few weeks."

I clenched my teeth. "How long we talkin' here?" I asked, slouching. This was routine at my house, ya know, being grounded and all so Dad could keep his eye on me at all times. Yeah, like that's possible.

Kristine screwed her lips to the side. "Three weeks, if anything else comes up – alcohol, skipping classes, undone homework, _attitude_ – it'll be five weeks, and that's a promise."

Sighing I nodded, that was fair enough. I just don't speak for three weeks and I should be cool. Pfft! _Me_ not talk for even a day? C'mon! Kristine smiled sweetly, letting me go to pace over to where Uncle Nick was standing by the table, setting down the cutlery.

Moving up to my room, I paused by the bathroom, stepping inside and closing the door. Peeking through my lashes at my reflection in the mirror, I ran the tips of my fingers over the lumps on my wrists.

"_And so the beast howls in your veins."_

Emilia's voice whispered through my thoughts, I grimaced. Resting my hands on the edge of the sink, I closed my eyes.

Whenever I felt like this. Like cutting. Dad said to think of a place that made me feel good...made me feel normal. But, I had no place to go. I thought of what it felt to hit somebody today – how completely blank it was. Like in those few seconds when my knuckles were pounding into that thick layer of cover-up and, smeared eyeliner and mascara, everything that was bad stopped.

It felt like falling.

After a long twenty minutes, when Gavril was knocking on the door, complaining about having to pee, I left the room. Thinking that maybe being high, driving in the dark, cutting, even dancing really had no purpose.

Maybe it was all just that instant where nothing else mattered that I liked so much. That I felt numb and open...vulnerable and stuff, ya know?

Whatever. A nap would clear all this fucked-up-ness. Coming into my room I slugged over to the bed, yanked the sheets back and climbed inside.

It felt good, being all warm and cosy. Man, if I ever met a person who didn't like sleeping I'd punch em' out. Besides alcohol and dancing and other crap I like, I think sleeping is my favourite activity.

I was just starting to doze when I heard a noise, sitting up jerkily, fists ready. Scanning the room I snorted, nobody was there. How cliché. Slumping back against my pillows and shutting my eyes, I let myself go limp and fall totally asleep.

It was one of those dreamless, deep, black sleeps that feels so fantastic you never ever wanna get up again...

Then, so fast, so freakin crazily fast, I was sitting up again. Heart in my throat, eyes wide. Hristea stared at me, leaning back against my dresser. He was so still, so...what's the word? _Statuesque_? Yeah, that's a big word – makes me feel smart.

My mouth flopped open, but no sound came out. He tilted his head, not saying anything to me while his big, vivid eyes narrowed and darkened. Then I remembered, my answer.

Clenching my teeth, I heard him sigh. "Have you had enough time to think?" His voice was low, quiet.

I grunted, "You already know what I'm gonna say." Hristea's jaw flexed and I glowered at him. "I don't know why you even bothered coming here, my answer is no."

Hristea looked at me sharply, and I got the sense he wasn't leaving until I changed my mind. Gulping heavily, I went on. "What makes you think I'd want to be with somebody like _you_? Some_thing_ like you?"

Slender white fangs hung over his bottom lip. "It won't be like that." His voice was restrained and his words were clipped. "I can fix it." Hristea sounded hopeful, as if that'd make anything better.

I shook my head. "You can't just _change_ overnight. People like you – monsters like you – can't just, ya know, make a spontaneous come back." I hissed at him, wanting my words to drive him off.

"I can." The words were so simple, but the way he said it made me shiver. The only word I could think of to describe his expression would be, determined. This word worked perfectly when he said, "I _will_. What must I do to prove it to you?"

Groaning, I dropped my face into my hands. "Nothing, because there is nothing for us," Combing my hair back I peeked at him through my fingers. "I'm not ending up like that kid."

Hristea made a face like a grimace, but his eyes were alight with remembrance. "You think I'd hurt you?" He made it sound like I'd punched him in the gut, Hristea's jaw dropped slightly. "I would never...." He trailed off, teeth clenching, forehead creasing.

"Then what was the dream to you, was that _nothing_? Was what we had there _nothing_?" Hristea demanded, his tone wicked and just off a shout, it made my heart race.

I wanted to yell at him I wanted him to get the hell out of my room, but my throat closed up tight, refusing to let me speak. I just nodded, hair in my face, his gleaming green eyes stabbed into me ruthlessly.

"Tell me." He snarled, "Tell me that it meant nothing to you at all and I'll go." I opened my mouth and the muscles in his jaw surged, "Tell me I haven't been your every waking thought-" His eyes tapered, thick brown lashes almost concealing all the white of his irises "-Tell me you don't want me."

What is this a freaking soap opera?

When I spoke finally all that came up was a dumb, stupid little, "Ugh." I don't even think that counts as a flipping syllable, let alone a word. God damn it. I'd hesitated. Hristea grinned in the kind of way that made my heart sink to the bottom of my gut.

"Say it." It wasn't the same as before, he didn't sound angry anymore. He sounded smug and victorious. It pissed me off.

"It-it..." I swallowed loudly, "This doesn't change anything." I felt like the kitten spitting in the face of a frigging lion.

Suckish thing was: Hristea knew it too.

His shoulders tensed, the think bands of muscle in his arms flexing. Hristea's fangs pricked his bottom lip, and he paced to my window. He came at me then, walking over to the bed and watching me scramble back.

"Give me a chance, and I promise you I won't screw up this time." The words seemed awkward still, like they were words he'd never spoken to anybody before. "Let me do this. If it doesn't work, I'll let you go and you won't see me again."

Weighing my pros and cons, thinking speedily and trying to find a loop hole in everything he'd said. Hristea's stood there not moving, looking even more like a giant that could squash me until I said, "Fine."

So, wanna know what's stupid?

At school, if you do something bad, instead of giving you detention, or making you write lines or, some shit like that. They just make you go home and like, stay there.

How epic is that?

I slept in till noon, got up and ate a bowl of cereal Kristine had set up for me before she left. I showered, changed my clothes, prank called people, ate junk food and, went back to bed for a while until Gavril or Stellar came home.

The first two days of my suspension, Gavril brought me homework. When he figured out that I'd started tricking Stellar into doing it for me, he stopping bringing it.

Hopping out of the shower, I pulled on some jeans and a black tank top, buttoning up a white blouse with black poke-a-dots on it. Messing around with my hair, I got pissy and just let it do it's thing before I made my way downstairs.

Uncle Nick and Aunt Kristine had gone out for dinner with some lady named Klarissa Andréa. I wondered if she was related to Analeigh for a while, but after listening to Kellen talk about what a heartless, disgusting, disturbed person she was I figured I was wrong.

So I came into the kitchen were Kellen, Stellar and Gavril were sitting at the table. Gavril knocked back big gulps of beer from this tall brown bottle, while Stellar texted on his phone. Kellen was stubbing out a cigarette in an ashtray I'd never seen before.

They looked like they'd been playing cards for a bit, up until recently. When I walked in, Gavril made this grunting noise and said, "Where're you going?" He slurred a bit. What a lightweight.

"Friends house." I shrugged a shoulder, pouring myself a glass of water, glanced at the clock and picked up a fat white bottle of pills in the G category.

Knocking it back I quickly sipped from the water and dumped the rest down the sink. Kellen looked at me carefully, "Need a lift?" I nodded slowly, looking down at my nails.

Three chairs scraped back and they all stood up, Stellar gazing up from his phone, pausing to straighten his blue and grey striped thermal. "Aren't you grounded?" He asked, his voice cracked and got higher in some places and I couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Yeah, why?" I asked, glaring at him. Stellar pressed his lips together shutting up and going back to his phone.

Kellen and I sat in the front of the jeep, Gavril was fast asleep, his long legs pressed up against the back of my seat. Stellar was listening to music, playing with his retainer and staring out the back left window.

I leaned against the glass, closing my eyes for a few minutes, pretending I couldn't hear Kellen's conversation with a chick named Kate, about taking their clothes off.

Kellen dropped me off at Salem's and I told him I'd call in a while to pick me up. I paced outside the big glass doors for a good ten minutes, not liking the idea of having to confess. I mean, I had no problem dumping somebody, but the whole admitting that I'd done something wrong just wasn't..._me_.

It was hard walking into the lobby, listening to the crotchety prune yell at me while I went up the elevator. There was a ding and the doors parted, my feet were slow, reluctant and I got this big ball in my stomach like something wasn't right and stuff.

I knocked on the door, but nobody answered, it was quiet in the room. But Salem said he wasn't leaving for another week, so what the hell's going on?

Luckily the door was unlocked, and I just stepped inside. It felt awkward here, the ball in my tummy got bigger and bigger, until I was pretty much choking on it.

Ignoring it, I looked around for everybody, but nobody was here. Looking around for another five minutes, I decided to peace out when somebody giggled.

My heart skipped a beat as another giggle echoed from down the hall. Clenching my teeth and balling my hands into fists I strode down the hall, glancing over my shoulder every once in a while.

I followed the laughter to one of the bedroom doors, hesitating when I put my hand on the door, closing my eyes and pushing it wide.

Opening my eyes gradually I swore, the sudden noise making Victoria pull away and gasp. Salem looked at me, squinted, his jaw dropped, hand coming out from beneath Victoria's skirt. I thought he pushed her off of him but I was already down the hallway.

"Sawyer!" I heard him shout, Salem ran down the fancy hall, the elevator doors closing in his face. I punched the wall. How fucking dare him do this to me!

I should go back up and break Victoria's face. My blood boiled, I was so angry I was giving myself a headache. Screaming as loud as I could, my voice was still resounding in the elevator when I reached the lobby.

Salem, panting, stood outside the doors, hands on his knees. Smothering the urge to knee him in the face, I stormed towards the doors, not looking back until his fingers closed around my elbow.

"Sawyer...please...just listen to me!" Salem pleaded, rasping. I laughed icily in his face, ripping my arm out of his grasp.

Listen to him? Why? So I could hear the fake apologies and the lies and the bloody well pointless excuses. No. Not this time.

He followed me outside, still gasping and calling my name when I'd pulled out Kellen's cell phone and started to dial his number. "Sawyer wait! That wasn't what it looked like – Vikki came onto me!"

I swore. _Vikki_. "Right," I growled, "And her boob just magically landed in your hand?" Salem's hand clamped on my shoulder, jerking me back around to face him, while I thought about breaking his nose.

"Look," He coughed. "I'm sorry alright! What do you want me to say?" He tried to bring me against him, his big eyes trying to be apologetic. To me they looked fucking upset because he'd been caught.

I smirked wickedly, "Whatever. I guess we're even now, huh?" Salem looked confused, his forehead starting to wrinkle as his eyebrows knit together. His hands loosened their grip on me and I stepped back.

"What? What are you talking about?" He tilted his head, sucking in his lip piercings and shaking his head at me.

"Yeah," I snorted, "I met someone else. Someone who isn't a backstabbing prick like you." I laughed viciously, "I guess I should've known, right? I mean, it's Victoria – it's not like she's ever been able to keep her legs closed anyways."

Salem winced, his eyes blazed, his bottom lip quivering. He looked at me with rage rippling over his face. "What the hell? So what? You think you can get off with cheating? Like, what is this? Nothing that you do is ever wrong, it's always me! Ya know what, Sawyer, fine!" Salem threw his arms up, sucking in a deep breath, but I knew he wasn't finished.

"Vikki's right," He spat. "You are a spaz! I hope the new guy likes the leash, you freak! Get the hell out of my sight!" He'd leaned toward me, yelling in my face and making people look at us. I grimaced at his words, they stung a little, but not as much as his face would when I–

A giant, rough hand snatched my rising fist, holding firmly to my arm and wrenching me back. Gasping, I stumbled over myself, landing with a thud on the pavement.

Salem stood there like an idiot, eyes widening, slack jawed.

Hristea's fingers closed, I didn't see him wind up, but I heard the deafening crack when his fist collided with Salem's jaw. Covering my eyes, I heard the _thwack _when Salem's body fell lip on the front steps of the hotel.

A delayed screech clawed at the roof of my mouth when I realized Salem wasn't moving. Hristea spun on the balls of his feet, collecting me in his arms and drawing me to my feet.

Victoria rushed out the lobby doors, shrieking, she dropped to her knees shaking Salem's shoulders. Hristea glanced at her over his massive shoulder, turning back to me to run his fingers through my hair.

His arm came around my waist, and before I could even laugh at Victoria we were gone.

My eyes stung from the abrupt run, I rubbed them and wiped away the burning tears while I tried to catch my breath. Hristea stood by my bedroom window, completely silent, totally unmoving while he watched me.

"Thanks." I breathed, blinking hard when I gazed at him. Hristea's lips twisted into a wolfish smirk.

"Don't mention it."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

"Do you feel better?" Hristea asked suddenly, his bright green eyes fixing on me. For once I could actually read them, I could really see the shields that rose to cover the luminous green. "With me," He breathed. "Do you feel better?"

I nodded slowly, inhaling deeply to find my voice again. Hristea blinked away, staring out my window again when he said, "Call Kellen. He needs to know if I've killed you or not."

When he said that, there was this kind of evil humour to it. My fingers slipped on the smooth plastic of Kellen's work phone, and I fumbled to dial his number. Holding the phone to my ear, it rang twice before Kellen answered, he sounded hysteric. "Sawyer! Are you okay? We're coming up the drive way now – do you have any idea what shit you're in?"

Kellen didn't give me a chance to say anything, he just kept shouting. "I had a frigging heart attack! Once second you're there, then _he_ showed up and then you're gone – poof! – don't you _ever_ do that to me again!"

He was still on the phone with me, but I could hear him downstairs for a few seconds, and then people were trampling up the stairs. I snapped the phone shut, looking at Hristea like I expected him to hide or something.

He just gazed back at me, perfectly still and emotionless, glancing away just when Kellen opened the door. My three cousins stopped dead in the doorway, hazel eyes wide, frozen stiff. Gavril clenched his teeth, eyes narrowing, Stellar gripped Kellen's shirt stepping back behind his oldest brother.

Hristea spent a short three seconds examining their faces, his eyes back on the window again. Kellen peered over at me and for like, a split second I could have sworn that I'd seen fear flicker in his hazel eyes. Then, in a snap, it'd disappeared and he was pushing Gavril and Stellar, protesting, out of the room.

Over his brother's voices, Kellen said, "I guess I should thank you." He didn't sound as nervous as I thought he would, Kellen actually looked pretty smooth and chill, like normal.

Hristea didn't move, but I could see him looking at me from the corner of his eyes. Kellen went on, "If you hadn't done that-" Me and Kellen jumped when Hristea's rumble of a voice cut him off.

"She isn't hurt." Was all he said at first, glancing over his rock-like shoulder to grin knowingly. At that second, I knew Hristea was reading Kellen's thoughts. Hristea turned around completely then, his eyes white and scary, Hristea's thick lashes were like demonic black smudges around his bright, pale irises.

Kellen's face went totally blank, stupidly blank – I mean he was, ya know, _lights are on but nobody's home_ kind of out-of-it. Hristea's fangs glimmered in the shadow of the guest room when he murmured, "It's late, and you're tired." Hristea's voice was low and ethereal, it moved over me like a dark shroud and made chills fall down my spine.

Kellen didn't so much as blink, his usually animated eyes empty and creepily inexpressive. "Tired..." He mumbled, words choppy and robotic.

Hristea nodded a fraction, it was one of those movements you kind of second guess because it's so slight. "Send your brothers to their rooms and go to sleep."

Kellen spun for the door, head lulling to the side, eyes half lidded while he mumbled, "Rooms...sleep...Gavril. Stellar." He closed the door behind himself, and I thought Gavril would come storming in guns a blazing, but the hallway was silent.

"How did you...?" I stared at Hristea, at his weary expression, he blinked at me. I clenched my teeth, raising my hand to my temple when I said, "Did you...did you mess with their heads or something?"

Hristea nodded, rolling his shoulders. "I did, yes, they will remember nothing of my being here." I shook my head, stuff like that only ever happened in story books.

He looked at me carefully, "Unless you'd prefer they know?" He cocked a brow at me, narrowing his eyes.

Pressing my lips together, I shook my head again, putting my hair out of my face and sighing. Hristea grunted, "I'll let you rest." His fingers unlatched the lock easily and the window slid open smooth as silk in his grip.

Jumping to my feet, I stretched, cracking my back and raking my hair back. "Can I come? I mean-" I waved my hand around the room "-I've got nothing to do for the next few days."

Hristea grinned faintly, stepping towards me when he stopped suddenly. "What about school? Do you not have classes?"

Laughing I pursed my lips, hands on my hips while I shrugged. "I got suspended for beating some girls up at school a few days ago – no biggie."

Hristea chuckled, crossing the floor in a few strides to pick me up again. I felt so frigging teeny when he did this, almost as if I was a ragdoll. He could just pluck me up like I was nothing.

Closing my eyes, I felt the lash of wind over my face, ripping through my hair and breaking right through my clothes. My teeth chattered a bit, and I coughed when Hristea squeezed me tighter, when he did that – got all tense and stuff – it felt like my insides were gonna burst outa my ears or something.

Suckish thing was, he didn't realize he was doing it until he'd stopped running and put me on my feet. But of course, my knees buckled and I fell right to my hands and knees, blue in the face and all.

Hristea looked so confused, like he couldn't understand that he was way stronger than me. Which like, really bagged on my ego and everything, but it was a frigging fact. I just don't think he totally realized that he nearly squashed me half the time.

His hands closed on my forearms, he slowly pulled me to my feet brushing my hair out of my face. Clenching my teeth I swayed, my brain still bouncing all over the place while all the blood in my body sunk back down to my feet.

He laughed when I glared at him then said, "I'm just so strong, I don't know what to do with myself." I punched his chest, staggering backward.

Hristea's arm was heavy on my shoulders, it felt like I was carrying a boulder or something. He paused outside this massive arched doorway, glancing in and quickly speeding up his walk and dragging me along.

"Hristea Demeter!" Snarled a familiar voice, Hristea winced, glancing over his huge shoulder as Ekaterina walked out from the room. He pointed a long, gloved finger at me and shook her head. "You didn't!"

Hristea groaned, about to say something when Ekaterina lifted her hand to hush him up. "If anything happens you _will_ be held accountable." Ekaterina's words had this real cold kind of bite to it, it made me flinch a little.

Hristea nodded, rolling his eyes once she'd gone back into the room. I would've said something if I wasn't still so dizzy. Leaning against him, I stumbled down the long corridors when he paused outside these big wooden doors and grunted.

I looked up at him, eyes tapering. Hristea's jaw flexed, and a million different emotions flashed across his eyes before he muttered, "Excuse the mess."

He pushed the doors open enough for me to slip in and gasp. It was like a frigging jungle in here! Huge vines wove in and out of the wall, they were thick and thorny and emerald green, carrying these odd black flowers.

Fat leafy plants hung from the high ceiling, they crept about, snaking out from long cracks and slithering around slowly consuming the whole ceiling. My skin crawled, it looked like one of those huge snakes I saw on Animal Planet.

Roots had come out from the glossy floor, reaching up with twisted arms to snatch and crush some of the furniture. They were like, seriously frightening roots, the kind in horror movies you'd expect to bust outa the ground and squeeze the life outa somebody.

Hristea walked passed me, tall hissing vines whirling up from the floor and grasping his giant arm, winding up to his shoulder. He peeked over his other shoulder at me, waving his hand for me to come closer.

Frantically shaking my head, I held my ground, screaming and running towards him when something leafy grazed my arm. Hristea snickered, turning his captured arm so that his palm was up.

"As children, Dorian and I couldn't fully control our 'gifts.' When that happens sometimes Undying are overthrown by their powers and can be manipulated by them. A huge problem for shape shifters like me," He breathed, curling and uncurling his fingers as thin vines coiled around them.

"Obviously, that did not happen to either of us. However, I grew up terrified to ever show emotion, because when I do this happens." Hristea's eyes moved around the room, taking everything in.

I was totally focused on the vines wrapped around his arm, it was like they were alive and listening to everything we said. How fucking eerie is that?

"Dorian made a game out of making me upset, once this started, I hadn't the strength to make it stop – you saw that." Hristea grinned ruefully, "There was nothing I could do."

A frown pulled on my mouth, "Why was he so mean to you?" I asked, suddenly happy that I had no older siblings.

He shrugged, "It's the way he is, the way he has always been. Dorian hates me." The way he said it, so like, "_whatever,"_ kind of pissed me off. What did Analeigh see in that dude?

"And this?" He grumbled, "I lost my temper." He chuckled fiendishly and his eyes brightened, "Whoops."

Hristea flexed his arm, the vines recoiling before they dove for his pores, I gagged as they pierced his pallid flesh, my eyes closing when I saw them moving within his veins.

Hristea said nothing, watching them move about under his skin, before the whole series of green vines had vanished and the wounds they'd made healed. He drew my hands from my face, "You're sure I don't frighten you?" His tone was smug and I growled.

Hristea made a face, looking over my head and into the gothic shadow of his destroyed room. Sighing he tilted his head to the side, irritation flickering in his eyes. "Max."

There was a high laugh, before the girl emerged, her curls still glossy and thick as ever. Man, if she uses hairspray, I gatta find out what brand.

Her dress was this kind of shimmery lavender, with all this jet black lace as the trim. Still her eyes shone so bright, so frigging vividly bright, it kinda made my heart stop. She smiled sweetly, that innocent childish smile that you'd expect from one of those pageant toddlers.

Hands behind her back she skipped over the roots and flowers and scary vines like they were nothing to her. She joined us and Hristea curled his fingers in her hair, kneeling down to look her in the eye.

He was so big compared to her, it was like looking at – wait, whose that dude? Ya know, that guy from the Bible and stuff? David! Yeah, David and Goliath. That's what these two looked like.

"What are you doing in here? You know better." I heard how Hristea's voice kinda got softer when he talked to her. It wasn't as gruff and angry now, Maxine gazed up at him and shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm bored." Maxine exhaled, fluttering her long lashes at him. "Cesario and Viola went _out_ and said I wasn't allowed to come-" Her bottom lip started to quiver "-when I asked Daddy to play with me he got so mad...he was yelling. Then I asked Mommy but she said she had to help Emilia, and she'd play later. So I just thought..."

Hristea's big shoulder's rose and fell as he looked up at me. The impatience hardened on his face kinda like a mask, Maxine stood around the height of his waist, her big curls hugging her teeny face.

Hristea crossed his arms over his chest, "Go hide." Maxine grinned this totally magical award winning smile as she darted for the doors, I saw her move for them, but I couldn't see her. The massive doors to Hristea's room slammed shut, the noise echoing in the room.

Pivoting on the balls of my feet I looked up at him, watching his lips moving in silent count. "See," I waved my hand. "You're not that big an asshole."

He rolled his eyes, cracking his fingers and pursing his lips at the jungle around us. "Suppose I should catch her before she gets too far." He murmured, narrowing his eyes.

Lifting a hand, Hristea slowly moved his fingers. I jumped, watching the plants sway like they were hypnotized by the simple movement. His motions started getting jerky, and before I could blink, he'd swung his arm to the door.

Crackling, snapping, ripping, yanking, the vines, roots, flowers, mosses tore from their places moving along the floor, walls and ceiling. They hurried for the doors, wriggling out through the cracks to escape into the hall.

Hristea smirked, gazing at me while I gaped at him. "That was fun." He sighed, "Come now, I want you to see something." I slouched, like I had much of a choice in the matter anyways.

His hand crushed mine and I was starting to think holding hands was going to have to be a no-no in this..._relationship_.

Ugh, relationship. What a dumb word. I clenched my teeth, trying to picture myself with him, and sure I could do that just fine, it was trying to picture us and then adding the word relationship to it, that I couldn't do.

Every time I tried his age showed up in my head, all flashy and bright like one gigantic red flag. So, I tried to cut some of those numbers off, ya know, maybe not putting 14 beside 126. Then again, 14 and 20 were still almost just as bad.

It wasn't even legal for me to peck someone that old on the cheek, let alone frigging neck with them! Shuddering I pushed the thought to the back of my head, figuring I'd just deal with it later.

We came into the enormous ballroom, and instantly I saw Hristea's black piano had been replaced with a white one. When I glanced at him, he exhaled heavily, "I, um, broke my other one."

Smiling I shook my head, "You lose your temper a lot, eh?" I watched my feet on the stairs, making sure I didn't trip again. Looking back up I saw Hristea grimace a bit, he squeezed my hand.

Hristea shook his head, "I lost some_one_." His eyes got all intense, it was almost as if all that hard, annoyed green had liquefied entirely. My face got all hot an uncomfortable, pretending to rub a spot on my shirt, I brushed my hair back.

It was quiet except for night noises and the murmuring of servants standing on the stairs. Hristea' moved about the yellowed papers on the piano, revealing a bunch of ugly scratches in the shiny wood.

His big hands grated across the smooth keys as he sat on the low white bench. Hristea straightened a handful of papers, spreading them across the ledge in front of him on the piano.

I watched his fingers stretch over the milky white keys. Just as before his hands moved nimbly, so crazily graceful, Hristea's eyes were glued to the curling sheets in front of him.

And out wafted this peculiarly happy tune, it was slow and started as a whisper, gradually building up to a soft, fluent murmur. I leaned against the piano, totally mesmerized by the way Hristea's hands moved. It seemed impossible for him to create such a beautiful song.

Well I guess I should say, some_thing_ like him.

"I thought there wasn't anything happy about being a vamp." I said, lifting a brow at him. Hristea pursed his lips a moment, like he was actually thinking about what he wanted to say next.

"There isn't." He grunted flatly, and his song kinda lost that happy note. "But this song in particular I wrote for you, and you are happy are you not?" His eyes never left the sheets before him but I could still feel him staring at me.

I laughed darkly, twisting my hair around my wrist. "Sure, if you wanna call it that – depends on your definition of _happy_." I kinda hissed at him, feeling angry that he'd written a song for me, even though that's kind of stupid.

The music took a dark turn and I watched as his hands moved farther apart, seeming still to cover more keys though, the song he played really had that ruin-your-life kind of twang to it. I felt like I was in some of cemetery with the Grim Reaper.

"I have no definition of happy." Hristea murmured, his bright eyes getting all guarded and shifty. The song came to a startling end, and he gathered up all the yellowing sheets in his hands and crumpled them. "Forget it."

I blinked at him, watching as he tossed the big paper clump over his shoulder. It bounced across the floor and even though the sound was like, super soft it seemed to ring in my ears deafeningly.

Sucking in a big breath, I went to apologize when Hristea interrupted. "How do we seem to you?" He squinted at me, leaning back and crossing his hands behind his head, I screwed my lips to the side. "Magnificent? Eternal? Dazzling?" I kind of just nodded to it all, thinking angrily of Emilia.

Hristea snorted, shaking his head. I pursed my lips, putting my hair out of my face. "Would you ever...ya know, make me like you? Like a vampire?" I mumbled the question, Analeigh coming to mind.

Hristea clenched his teeth for about half a second, snarling out the word, "No!" I flinched back a bit, surprised by the rage in his voice.

Swallowing loudly and shrugging, I looked down at the shiny floor. "I couldn't bring anyone to this life – no, not a life – this..._existence_. What we are, what _I_ am, is unnatural. Twisted." He snapped, when I peeked up I saw that he was glaring at me, hiding the torture in his eyes.

"We were a mistake, an accident, something must've went wrong. And now we are these _things_ – these _creatures_, craving others blood to the point it hurts. And for what? Speed? Strength? Beauty?" Hristea turned away from me, this mask of sick, demented humour coming across his face. "If you ever asked me of such a thing-" He closed his eyes "-I'd kill you."

I had to dig around for my voice, it was like it'd run off somewhere at the worst possible time. "You-you..." I cleared my throat, "But you like it, you like being like th-that."

Hristea's lips twitched, "No." He lifted a meaty hand to cover his face, one green eye fixed on me through the small cracks between his fingers. "The blood has no taste, women are no longer satisfying, the world has no colour. And soon you are just searching, _reaching_ for something to fill a meaningless void for just a few seconds, where you finally believe you are at peace before it crumbles to ash – just like everything else."

My mouth went dry, and I felt like I was chewing on a huge wad of cardboard. Hristea just looked at me, like he was waiting for something, for me to say something. But I just...I couldn't.

Then I realized he wasn't looking at me, but at the curl of green just barely grazing my shoulder. Gulping back a scream, I stared at the vine as it reached out for him with leafy hands. Hristea glowered at it, and I staggered back a step, pointing to the one winding up the white leg of the piano, sprouting large black flowers.

"Hey-" I started, watching as more and more came, thicker and thicker, outrage and frustration spiralled over Hristea's expression, but he didn't let me finish.

"Leave us." He sighed as he reached out for them and I gawked in a disgusted, awed stupor while they consumed him. My gut lurched, and came this awful rip in my chest, it hurt so bad I put my hand over my heart to make sure it was still there.

Moving around the piano a bit, I pulled at the vines, plucking out the flower's petals. "Hey, I'm not gonna turn to ash. Well, ya know, not for like a long time 'cause that's still like, real far off and junk when I'm all old and wrinkly and gross."

The corner of Hristea's lip turned up, one of his big arms wrapping around my waist. Leaning down, chills tumbled down my spine when his mouth brushed mine. I felt Hristea's fangs graze across my skin and for a split second I stood completely still wondering if I was going to bleed to death.

He exhaled, pushing me back a step and shook his head. "I can't be Dorian for you." He breathed, like that was really a huge problem. I made a face and with a tilt of his head Hristea went on. "I don't have that kind of patience."

"What the heck does that mean?" I said, throwing my arms up. In case, ya know I'm like, the only one that grasps this concept, Dorian is a douche bag. Just to um, clear that up. Cause really, I don't even know the dude that great and he's already a few notches above Salem on the ass hole pole.

Hristea laughed a little, "Analeigh was a year older than you are now when he found her. Of course she was terrified of men then, he was more of a Father figure for the longest time, until she finally managed to completely shatter his level of self-control." Hristea smirked fiendishly, and I just assumed that that must've been a pretty difficult achievement. "I don't have that kind of patience."

Then I rolled my eyes, "What's with you people and younger girls, I mean like _damn! _Can you just not help it or what?" Hristea chuckled, nodding a fraction while I spoke.

"You try so hard." I sighed, "I'm not scared of you, you know. Like at all." I stated matter-of-factly, lifting my chin cockily.

Hristea narrowed his eyes at me, baring his fangs. "Then perhaps it's time I try a little harder." He yanked me right against him, moving so quickly, I had no time to react before I was bent over his arm with my throat right out there screeching for attention.

I winced when he bit me, squirming at the sudden pain. My feet kicked up instinctively, and I pushed against his chest while I squeezed my eyes shut.

Waiting for that feeling, that same feeling that came with cutting, that emptiness. Bleeding out and feel of numbness while death swept over me, as if it was a blanket. I waited for a shriek that never came, instead there was this terrible, groaning noise that no way in hell could have come from my lips...

Then I gasped, clutching Hristea's shoulders while he burst out in booming laughter. Blinking once, twice, my hand raced up to my neck where I could have sworn he'd bitten me. But I was still standing, still held in his arm like nothing had happened.

I looked at him, totally confused and horrified. Balling my hand into a fist, I went to slug him one right in the kisser when he pinned my arm to my side with his free hand.

"It wasn't real Sawyer, I promise, nothing happened." He snickered. I shook my head hysterically, anxiously searching for the spot on my neck where his teeth had sunk in.

"No, it was, I felt you, you bit me and-" He didn't let me finish.

"And I planted the images, the feelings in your mind." He smirked, winking at me. "I messed with your head." Hristea reached up, placing his hand on top of my head and jerking me side to side.

Slapping his arm, I shoved out of his grip. "What the hell! Why would you do that?" My voice echoed in the ballroom, Hristea looked more amused than at all fazed by what I'd said. I jabbed my finger into his chest, wincing at the sudden pain that tore through my hand. "Don't you _ever_ do that again or next time I'll-"

There was a deafening scream. Hristea winced, hands coming up like he wanted to cover his ears while I jumped. Pivoting on my heels, I turned in time to see Maxine race down the stairs, she vanished periodically right into thin air, before she was coming towards us at a totally different angle. It hurt my eyes trying to focus on her.

My fingers clamped on the edge of the piano when I finally saw what she was running from. Vines clamoured along the floor, slithering across the glimmering hardwood like thousands of snakes charging towards us.

Some of the servants along the stairs scurried out of the way, gasping and cursing. Maxine stopped a few meters from us, a huge smile spread across her face from ear to ear. Her black hair whipped over her face, the surprise suddenly coming on her face made my gut lurch.

The foliage that had been chasing her seemed to jump straight up from the ground, lunging at her. Clapping her hands over her eyes Maxine shouted, "You win! You win!"

And then he was there, totally out of the blue. Dorian stood perfectly still a familiar grin coming over his mouth, he snapped his fingers and I could have sworn there was a brief red flash, almost like a bubble around them. In an instant it was gone. Squinting, I tried to find it again, but it was like, I dunno, a trick of the mind? Isn't that what it's called?

"Whoa!" I staggered back into the piano, the keys chiming. Hristea's vines recoiled, whipping back and curling into each other and I honestly think I heard them screaming.

Hristea was beside me then, I kind of felt his growl before I heard it. When I looked up he snapped his teeth together, Hristea's fangs lengthening as his eyes narrowed.

"Dad, you weren't playing." Maxine said, uncovering her eyes and tilting her head back to look up at him.

Um, so...am I really the only one that feels the rage coming off of these two? Like damn! If I lit a lighter I'm pretty sure it'd like a frigging fire up in here!

"Oh," Dorian murmured, his expression too astonished to ever be believed. Dorian combed his fingers through his hair, pulling back the stray hairs dangling around his forehead. "I thought that perhaps you wanted me to play now but-" He turned on the balls of his feet, pacing away. "I suppose not."

Maxine snatched his sleeve, drawing his hand back to her. "No, no I didn't say that!" Dorian whirled around, plucking her up like a doll and pulling her over his shoulder. Maxine, kicking her feet, laughed and screamed. Hair in his face, Dorian's green eyes flickered up towards us. I felt as if they'd stabbed me, even though I knew he was looking clear through me.

Hristea, who I now just remembered was beside me, tensed and snarled. The kind of sound that made me scurry away from him before I figured out how stupid I must've looked doing it.

Dorian chuckled over his shoulder, carrying her across the gigantic ballroom to the stairs. Servants straightened themselves out, bowing their heads and curtsying when Dorian passed, though they gazed away, closing their eyes.

Hristea shouted wordlessly, slamming his fist into the gleaming piano top. There was a noisy, awful screech as keys mangled and chords twisted, followed by the splintering of wood.

Dorian's laughter grew over Maxine's, before he'd slipped out the great doors. Hristea hissed, "You!" And he jabbed his finger across the room at one of the servants still playing with his uniform. "Bring me Angelica and bring her _now_!" His voice boomed over the whole ballroom, I covered my ears.

"Stop it!" I hissed, reaching out to grab his forearm. Hristea glowered at me, wrenching his arm out of my grasp I saw him make a fist–

Wincing, I squeezed my eyes shut putting my hands in front of me. There was no way he'd actually...he'd actually _hit me_. Would he?

"Sire!"


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Okay, yes, I'm a dick. I know, I know. So much for like, speedy updates huh? :P but, just so ya know, 'cause I got this really angry pm from someone, I'm actually trying to screw up some of my spelling lol, not all of it some of it is actually writer's error, the rest is the way I normally talk lmao. Aaaanyways, I wanna warn all of you, this chapter is designed to screw with your head lol, I couldn't make things super obvious so I figured if I just confused everybody everything would go as I planned. So there is a method to my madness every once in a while. Thanks guys, I know this was a reeeally long note.

~Selene

* * *

Chapter 17

Fluttering my eyes open, I peeked up to find that Hristea wasn't even there anymore. Glancing around, I realized he was standing by the stairs, talking angrily to one of the servants.

The woman in the burgundy gown pointed at me, and Hristea bared his teeth snatching the wine glass out of the servant's hand. Inside the glass was a thick red liquid, cringing, I tried to make myself believe that was actual wine and not what I thought it was.

What a dick! If he'd actually hit me – 100 percent hit me – I think I'd for real have to tear him apart. Now I'm just pissed off! How could he even think of laying a hand on me!

"You-you asshole!" I screamed, listening to the tinker of chandelier crystals above us. Both the servant and Hristea looked at me. "How dare you raise a hand at me! I should-" I threw my hands up "-I should destroy you!"

I raced to where he stood, "You were seriously going to hit me just now, weren't you?" Hristea said nothing. "Weren't you?" Reeling my arm back, I leaned forward and drove my fist into his cheek.

Hristea's head tilted slightly, exhaling heavily he waved his free hand at me. "Sawyer, Angelica. Angelica, Sawyer." He didn't even sound a little bit hurt.

Yanking my hand back, I went in to shove him, Hristea's arm coming out to crush me to his side. Angelica gazed at me with something that I thought was sympathy. It made me want to spit in her face.

Angelica was tall in black heels, her burgundy dress hugging a slim figure. She wore a thin black jacket over her dress, a giant broach pinned over her heart in the shape of a dragon's head. She looked pretty young, with her heart shaped face and ginger hair clipped back into a long ponytail.

Thick, orange bangs hung over her silvery blue-green eyes, eyes that, behind their slender glasses, looked like they'd had a lot of sleepless nights and frigging decades of stress.

"Take her home now." She said, and he voice made me wonder if she was older than she looked. She sounded like, really tired or something. Hristea rolled his eyes dramatically, knocking back the blood in the wine glass while I grimaced. There was a loud crash as he threw it over his shoulder.

Squirming, I wriggled my way out from under his arm, glaring at them both. Hristea and Angelica ignored me, scaling the stairs and heading for the doors. "Did you handle the twins?" Hristea was saying.

My stomach climbed the walls of my throat. Sabina and Sorina were still here? Angelica's response faded out of ears reach, while thick Italian accents, gorgeous tans, untamed red curls, perfect blonde hair and, wide flawless fanged smiles flashed in my head.

What did that mean? That it isn't over? That maybe I am just the salad on the side. Maybe they're just like, happy after party guests, close friends of the family...yeah, that'd be nice.

Why does he do this? Is he like, I dunno, one of those secretly morbid people who like, enjoy seeing people suffer? I don't get it.

"I can hear you." Hristea laughed not looking at me, I clenched my teeth together. What a jerk. "Besides, you're wrong." He stated, matter-of-factly.

Angelica peered over her shoulder at me, the click-clacking of her heels starting to annoy me. She smiled. It was a cute, warm smile. Though, for some reason it seemed plastic to me, like a Barbie's smile.

Holding my breath, I trailed slowly behind them. Feeling impatient and totally invisible – do you have any idea how flipping agitating that is? There were servants racing up and down the halls, pulling curtains shut and slamming giant, black shutters.

I watched them for a while, then I realized it was starting to get all sunny out and stuff. Kristine was going to be so pissed off. Well, then again, she'd said undone homework, attitude, and the rest of that crap I didn't listen to. But she never said anything about chilling here for a while.

Grinning, I hurried up my steps, crossing my arms over my chest as I squeezed between Hristea and Angelica, ending their conversation. "Were you going to tell me that they were still here?" I cocked a brow at him, trying to act not as irritated as I felt.

Hristea said, "Yes." At the exact moment Angelica said, "No." I rolled my eyes, putting my hair out of my face. Angelica looked at Hristea carefully, narrowing her eyes and shaking her head. "I would have," Hristea smirked, baring his fangs. "Eventually."

We stopped at a large, dark wood door that looked like it'd come right outa some hardcore medieval times convention. Angelica put a slender pale hand on my shoulder stopping me in my tracks, while Hristea drew the door open.

"Where are you going?" I questioned, kind of covering my mouth when I heard the random anxiety rise in my voice. Hristea's brows arched, his smile widening.

"I have to sleep now." I tilted his head towards the blackened hall on the other side of the door. It looked all creepy and cobweb-ish in there.

I could make out thick slabs of dark stone making winding stairs, but I could barely see much farther than the third step. The shadow of light flickered on the black wall further ahead, it looked like candle light.

"I-In like a coffin?" The idea grossed me out more than I really thought it would. Hristea nodded briefly, pulling the creaky door wider and stepping inside. My tongue started to flail behind my lips, millions of excuses flashing in my head, stupid plans to make him stay.

"Well, what...can't you just...what am I supposed to do?" I questioned, feeling my forehead getting all wrinkly and junk. Then I remembered the twins and my heart lurched into overdrive. "Wait! What about the-"

Hristea shrugged a rock-like shoulder. "Don't worry, Angel will take care of you." He nodded at the hand on my shoulder, and before I could bombard him with all my excuses, the door shut with a boom and a breeze that blew my hair back.

"Stupid bloodsucker." I growled, swearing under my breath and pushing Angelica's hand off of me. Stepping back I looked her up and down, thinking that I wasn't going anywhere with her.

Angelica just sighed. "Come, you must be tired." Despite my struggle to hold it in, I yawned just after she finished her sentence. Angelica grinned, walking ahead of me, ponytail swinging between her shoulder blades.

We walked down a bunch of long hallways and up a flight of stairs before we reached Hristea's room. Man! I could just bring Mom here and she'd probably burn off the same amount of calories just wandering around, than running on the treadmill for two hours.

Angelica held the door open for me, heaving a sigh when she closed the big doors. "What am I going to do with him?" She breathed, and I didn't think she was talking to me.

Pacing across the room, I pulled up a heavy armchair that was all...what's that word? That was all...upster? uphold? U_pholstered _in smooth, near-black navy blue leather.

I slouched into it, feeling the imprint of broad shoulders and sinking into the deep seat. Wrapping my hair around my wrist, I watched Angelica move about the room, fixing things up.

She played with her glasses, fixed her ponytail and unbuttoned her jacket, folding it gently and laying it across the scratched table. Angelica ran her hand over the broken mirror, and then I saw it – saw _them_.

Bite marks. Fat white, crescent shaped scars that started at her right wrist, and scaled up to the curve of her elbow. There was another on the side of her neck, and a pair of ghostly blue eyes flickered in my head an instant.

She touched her neck and smiled sheepishly. I squinted at her, "What are you, the walking midnight snack?" I demanded, not meaning to sound half as disgusted as I did.

Angelica laughed, shaking her head, "No, of course not!" She didn't sound hurt by what I said at all, she actually thought it was funny. "Hristea didn't do all of these on purpose."

Oh! Well sheesh! Doesn't that fix everything? He didn't do _all_ of them on purpose – so it's all good, 'cause, ya know, _some_ of them were accidents.

Wait a minute...

"What do you mean not all of them were on purpose?" I looked at her from the corners of my eyes, clenching my teeth. Angelica blinked at me, a bright red blush staining her cheeks. I groaned, "Does everybody just sleep with everybody in here?"

She closed her eyes for a few long seconds, exhaling slowly before she looked at me again, pushing her glasses up. "I'm a personal assistant Sawyer-" She winced a little when I gagged. "-It's difficult to explain, but my purpose is to do whatever is necessary to-"

I cut her off.

"Really, I'm not all that interested anymore." I cringed, waving her off with my hand. Angelica made a face, tilting her head while she watched me. It was weird. I felt like a mutt being judged next to a prized poodle at the dog show.

It was an awkward kind of quiet, like the dead air between us was slowly getting thicker and thicker. Gulping loudly, I looked away from her, acting like I needed to pick at something on my shirt.

Angelica sighed, "You must be hungry? Tired?" I didn't answer. Her heels click clacked over to the far wall, beside the bed. She lifted her hands, running her fingers over a bunch of buttons, until there was sudden static in the room.

Narrowing my eyes, I looked at her through my hair. Angelica was pretty. Not that she had anything on Sorina or Sabina – not that I was complaining – Angelica seemed more like a door than an obstacle in my path.

There was a fuzzy voice, that sounded like a woman. Angelica had a quiet conversation, and I wondered if that little box in the wall was like an intercom at school.

Climbing out of the chair, I stretched, fists grinding into my hips as I moved about the room. Glancing over my shoulder at Angelica once in a while, I pushed through the books on the shelf above the fireplace. Some of them wheezed out breaths of dust, while other ones just slumped over themselves and other books.

With a flutter of paper a picture fell out from between the pages of a book. Peering over at Angelica, I clenched my teeth together, slipping the book out of one of the piles and dragged my fingers over the tearing leather cover.

I opened the book, listening to the crackle of pressed pages, coming across a familiar scroll. Not that it was any more legible, Hristea's messy handwriting was pretty distinct. Though I couldn't read half of the things he'd written, I flipped through the yellow pages.

Front and back of each crumpling page was totally doused in black ink, some pages only had a few words, followed by a short sentence. While others had long paragraphs with rough, unclear sketches and lines and lines of unreadable music.

Leaning down I picked up the piece of paper that had fallen out of the journal. It was grainy and thin, I had to be like, real careful picking it up. On the back of the paper were the numbers 1898. Turning it over, I held in a gasp, meeting eyes with a photo of a girl.

The greyscale colour had faded in places or had chipped away. But her face was clear. She looked really young like maybe, I dunno, a few years older than me – if that. She grinned in this kind of _I'm better than you_ way and her wide eyes held wild stories.

Her oval face was smooth, though the baby fat hadn't all gone yet. Her lips were slender and curled up at the corners. Her eyes looked so perfect and suiting on her face, but had so much...energy? They were undisciplined eyes – that's a big word! – that made her look almost sinister.

Her dark hair was pulled up in a real fancy bun that probably involved a lot of pins and crap. A long chain hung around her neck, and I could just make out the large pendant that dangled from it. It was black, and in the center was a great big, super elaborate D.

Extending my arm and closing one eye, I gasped. What the hell! She looked exactly like–

"I'll take that!" Angelica sounded hysteric, ripping the picture from my hand and holding it close to her chest. I staggered back a step.

"Why does she look like me?" I shouted, my voice echoing through the room, Angelica didn't answer, clutching the photo closely to her chest. I clenched my teeth together.

What the hell is this? Some freaky vampire voodoo or something?

"That'll be all Angelica." His voice was booming but calm, his accent coming thick and firm.

We both jumped, reeling around to face Dorian. He closed the heavy doors with a wave of his right hand, carrying in his left a great big platter with this tall, clear glass of milk and like, twelve different kinds of cookies.

Gently laying the shimmering platter on the tattered table, he jerked his head towards the door. Angelica bowed her head and curtsied, speeding for the doors, but not before Dorian swiped the picture out of her hand. Angelica looked more reluctant to leave now that he'd taken it, but she didn't dare stay.

"Tell me!" I growled, "Who is she? Why does she look like-" He didn't let me finish.

Dorian dragged a set of long fingers through his brown hair, his green eyes looking guarded and amused. "Perhaps I did tell you, would you even believe me?" He tilted his head, regarding the picture with a wry grin.

I clenched my teeth, watching his smile widen to a familiar wolfish smirk. Dorian pursed his lips, "Then of course if I did, I suppose Hristea would try to kill me, and he would undoubtedly fail. So..." He shrugged then waved his hand around the room.

"You may want to sit for this." He suggested, smile unfading.

I snorted, "I'll be fine."

He nodded a bit, crossing his arms over his chest, the grey blouse he wore creasing. I couldn't help but notice how like, I dunno, _tiny_ he was compared to Hristea. I mean like, Dorian was more of a toothpick next to a tree.

"Very well then." His accent moved over me like velvet, the idea made me cringe and my stomach get all floppy and junk. Okay, I knew this dude bugged me – but not to this extent.

"We knew you as boys. In the year 1899-" He smiled when my brows arched. "-Yes, t'is the same date as the photograph. We lived in England then, when my Father allowed us to run wild and nurse from the abundant breast that was London. _My_ home. A place rich with scents, sights, and sounds this new age could never grasp. You were Quinzelle Hannah Archer, the daughter of a blacksmith and the only girl of four boys. Your Father owned a successful shop in the countryside, we had come into town the day you encountered us."

I rolled my eyes, "If you're making this up I swear to God I'll-"

Dorian hissed, "I believe in no God." His fangs glimmered. "Now do you want to hear the story or not?" I waved my hand for him to go on, feeling like I'd just made a total moron of myself. Yeah, 'cause I was totally alive back then – this isn't The Land Before Time!

"Hristea and I were seeking Emilia when he came across you." Dorian lifted his hand and pinched his chin between his index finger and thumb. The corners of his mouth twitched. "You came out from a stable, doused from head to toe in soot, leading a horse."

"And, ya know, _somehow_ you remember all this?" I cocked a brow at him, Dorian pulled his fingers through his hair again.

"Vampires never forget. Names. faces. Memories never fade for us." He pursed his lips, "Unlike humans who forget all too quickly."

I dunno, I don't think his last statement should have pissed me off as much as it did but the fact of the matter is: it pissed me off. "What's that supposed to mean?" I grunted, narrowing my eyes at him.

Dorian's forehead got all creased and he looked at me in a way that just totally screamed SHUT THE HELL UP! I clenched my teeth, feeling like I needed to come up with a lot more stuff to say.

His eye twitched, and he went on. "You haven't changed-" He waved his index finger at me "-_much_. You were our age then, a few months younger perhaps." Dorian held the picture between his index and middle finger and stared down at it for a while. "Fair hair, but you would never know it – not with all the grime you were covered with-" I snorted, and Dorian grinned wickedly "-You were less of a woman then, I believe I only ever saw you once in a proper gown. The rest of the time, you were clothed as a boy to maintain your Father's reputation. Though you couldn't be courted– or controlled for that matter."

He caught my glare, cleared his throat and held back a roguish smile. "You couldn't have lied and said I was a princess or something, huh?" I rolled my eyes, walking back to the armchair and slouching deep into the imprints.

Dorian shook his head, "You?" He laughed softly. I clenched my teeth, wishing I had some crazy X-men powers to make his head explode. "I think it was the fact he couldn't have you that he wanted you so desperately. That _he_ picked you out after so many years in such a seamless disguise."

I tucked my hands in behind my head, just kind of entertained that he'd come up with all this. I mean, nobody ever went this far for a joke. I puckered my lips, flickering my eyes around the creepy room.

"So why don't you show me all this then? I mean, the memories and crap like that. Hristea did it." I challenged, thinking I was pretty frigging smart.

Dorian sighed, "I can't, the memories aren't mine. I was not part of your affair, you would have to ask Hristea himself to show you." Dorian sounded all tired and his big square shoulders started to hunch. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly. "I have to take my leave now, if you need anything Angelica is outside the doors."

He staggered a bit when he walked now, something I thought kind of odd. I mean, he's supposed to be all pretty and junk right? Like every other blood sucker in this joint.

Dorian slapped the picture down on the table then slugged out the doors, leaning on the frame for a few seconds before going on. I stared at the plate of cookies, narrowing my eyes at them.

Would a vampire poison somebody?

Well, I mean like, if they were too lazy to just go in for the kill themselves. Or is that, I dunno, too medieval?

Pushing out of the armchair, I took a big gulp from the milk, feeling an icy lump spill down the inside of my chest and making me shiver. I waited for all the insane shaking and spitting and groaning poisoned people do in the movies. Nothing happened.

Reaching down I ran my finger over a chocolate chip cookie, thinking about what Dorian said. Maybe he had some kind of cabin fever – oh wait! I guess it'd be _coffin_ fever.

I mean, all of that blacksmith and me being a dude thing, that's all bull.

Like, c'mon, what is this? I'm not stupid, and I'm not some kind of weird re...what the hell is that big word? Reincarnation! Yup, that's it. I'm not some kind of reincarnation of Hristea's long lost lover. Like, there has to be a lot of them out there then, 'cause he definitely got around the block a few times.

"Maybe not a reincarnation." It was a smooth, musical voice that made me swear and jump up, half-choking on a clump of cookie.

"Christ!" I shouted, "Do you all do that? Did you just wait outside until you heard something good enough to use as a snappy entrance?" I demanded, glowering at Sorina.

She wore a short red dress, almost the same colour as her wild hair. Her snakeskin heels looked painful and made me cringe. She smiled at me, a smile that made my heart lurch into hyper-drive.

Sabina stood beside her, in her perfect blonde hair, perfect tan skin, perfect _everything_ way. She wore an emerald cocktail dress, the same length as her sister's with the exact same pumps. They shared the same features and same thick accent. Yeah, 'cause I thought they'd change or something!

Sabina held a wine glass in her hand, holding in it the same thick liquid I'd seen Hristea drinking earlier. Clenching my teeth, I pushed the image of their teeth at my neck out of my head.

"What do you want?" I hissed, suddenly feeling vulnerable and alone. Angelica was outside, why'd she let them in? My heart raced, and it was hard to keep the butterflies in my stomach still.

They both tilted their head to the left at the same time and shrugged. "Oh, nothing, just thought we would enlighten you." They said together, I found that extremely creepy.

Sorina smirked, "We know Dorian told you all about your beautiful romance all those years ago, suppose you think you hold something over us?" She said that by herself, which was _way_ more frightening than it should've been.

I forced my sarcasm, "What? Cause your guy still wants me after _all those years_ and your break-up sex was a flop? Nahh, I don't think I have anything over you guys." I played with my hair, crushing a cookie in my fist and trying to feel as big and bad as I made myself sound.

Sabina blinked at me. Long, thick blonde lashes that made her big black eyes look like endless caves leading inside her head. I swallowed hard, trying to think of something else to say.

"Owch." She muttered, glancing at her sister. "Coming from a _inutile vergine_ such as yourself, I'm not exactly sure if that bothers me in the slightest."

I clenched my teeth while Sorina grinned. "Perhaps we could show this little _monello_ what truly occurred all those years ago, hmmm?" Her red hair curved over her shoulder as she turned her head towards Sabina.

Trying not to sound surprised – and then failing horribly – I stammered, "S-so you um, you knew me? When I was Quinn?" Asking that question made me feel like a total retard.

They both shook their heads. "No," Then they both shrugged. "Merely tasted the memoirs." The way they said it, with their accents and with their cocky expressions, I figured that had something to do with Hristea that I really didn't wanna know about.

"And, of course, seen what will come of your relationship should you choose to continue it." Their voices got all dark and evil, like some shroud of death come to eat my soul. I mean, jeez, no need to go all horror movie on me or anything!

I rolled my eyes, what is this? Mess with Sawyer's head day or did I just draw the frigging short stick?

"Really, I'd rather not do this whole stupid game again, can you just leave so I can eat my cookies in peace?" I said, glancing down at the platter of crumbs and stacks of expensive looking goodies just waiting for me.

Thing was, when I looked up, they were gone.

My heart thudded heavily in my chest, making me jump forward. I screamed when hands clamped down on my wrists, dragging me back to the armchair. I squirmed in the deep-set cushions, trying to get up again, Sabina reached out to grab my right hand, holding her sister's with her left. Sorina snatched my left hand, squeezing so tightly, I think a tear might've popped up in my eye.

Kicking my feet up, I tried to fight my way out of their grasp, slipping down in the chair. Closing my eyes, I swore when Sabina's grip tightened.

"Let go!" My voice cracked, I couldn't remember the last time I'd cried out those words like this. It reminded me of my first time in The Bucket. Writhing in the nurses hands and clawing at them until their arms were raw – not that it really helped my case.

"I suppose you've never heard of an oracle before?" Sorina murmured, her accent so smooth and warm it made my head spin.

But before I could say anything I was pressed into the impression of Hristea, feeling the world race by in seconds. My stomach flipped and my head got all dizzy.

I'm gonna be sick!

Opening my eyes, I stared at myself. Though, this version couldn't see me. I figured that out when I shouted at her.

I looked awful. The left side of my bottom lip was all fat and pretty much gushing blood, I had this super gross black eye that made half my face swell up like a balloon. God damn! Even my hair looked like it'd gotten an ass kicking!

Laying on the ground, I held in my arms this heap of disgusting, mangled and seared flesh. The dirty, sudden smell of death tore up my nostrils and made me gag.

Then I noticed the disturbing bends in my knees, the distortion of bone and the obvious breaks. Covering my mouth, I dropped down, holding my head between my knees.

I'd only seen legs like that in movies where a frigging mafia or some other kinda gang busted up a dude's legs with a baseball bat or something. How'd this happen to me?

Gasping in choking breaths of air, I heard myself laughing, this kind of sarcastic, nervous laugh. Then I said, "You look like shit." The heap made a nasty gurgling chuckle in response.

The other me lifted her wrist over the sick black flesh. I tried to stop her, but my fingers went right through her back like she was some kind of freaky ghost.

"You cannot do anything." Someone said. I whirled around on my hands and knees to see the twins there, looking smug. "Not here."

I thought I caught the glimmer of fangs for an instant, and then I saw the other me wince. Her eyes widened and she slouched, making this terrible groaning noise in the back of her throat that made me wanna smack her.

Gasping, I listened as the sounds faded, and I fell completely down on my side. Hristea sat up, his palm rising to the closing, blackened burn on his cheek. His white eyes flared white, and he pulled me up into his lap.

My pale, ugly little body looked so pathetic and like, dead in his arms now that it made my stomach leap into my throat. He sighed, "I feel better already." Then Hristea smirked, though his voice didn't have all that cocky douche-bag-ness to it. He actually sounded, I dunno, sad?

His fingers coiled in my hair and he kissed me, not like usual, not like he did it to piss me off. This was one of those Hollywood kisses that made losers cry in the theatres and tugged at people's hearts and junk.

To me though, it seemed like a break up kiss. Like a I'll-never-see-you-again kind of kiss.

When he stopped finally my blue eyes looked empty, eerie and I scrambled to my feet to hurry over to my side. Her head lolled back over his arm, she grinned at me. It was a dead, disturbing grin that made me scream.

By the next breath I took, I was on my hands and knees on the black floor in Hristea's destroyed room. I followed the two pairs of long legs up to the beautiful tan faces and familiar runway smiles.

Sabina and Sorina sighed, "You didn't actually believe that you two would run off into the sunset, and have the perfect happily ever after did you?" When I didn't answer they broke out in laughter. It was the most musical, most magnificent sound I'd ever heard. "He's a vampire for Christ's sake!"

I covered my ears, squeezing my eyes shut and shrieking, "Get the fuck out!"

I could still hear their laughter even after they'd left the room and Angelica came into to collect me.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter 18

He's a vampire you imbecile, wake up!

I told myself that over and over and over again until I'd fallen asleep, right there in my spot on the floor.

I dunno, maybe I was waiting for the noise. Waiting for the sound of his voice so I could try to act like everything was totally fine. Eyes fluttering open, I rubbed the sleep out, not caring for my makeup.

Straightening my shirt, I stared up at the ceiling for the longest while, even when he'd stopped to loom over me. "What do you want?" I murmured, kind of wondering if the ceiling would answer or if he would.

"Did they hurt you?" Hristea asked, voice low, not even a little bit worried. Like it was just something you had to say because it fitted the moment, not because you actually wanted to say it.

I snorted, lifting a hand to curl a lock of my hair around my fingers. "Define hurt." The images kept coming up in my mind, like some messed up montage that just wouldn't stop.

Turning my head a bit I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to stare into the big inhumanly green eyes gaping back down at me. "What did you do to me?"

Hristea leaned over, sat and laid down on his back like me. "Dorian says reincarnation, though you'd know he was lying. There would have to be a God for something like that to occur, he has no God." I didn't, ya know, understand where the hell he was taking this but I stayed still.

"My Father says it's a divine blessing. A _gift_," From the corner of my eyes I could see him shaking his head. "We have no right...no fucking right to be _blessed_ or _absolved_ for what we have done." Hristea's teeth snapped together.

I blinked slowly, swallowing and glancing over at him. "So what then? Who was she?" I asked, watching him close his eyes.

Hristea sighed, "Maybe it's a stroke of luck – maybe _you're_ a stroke of luck. First there was Ellie, now you-" He snorted "-I'd like to pretend that I could be so sanctified."

I felt his eyes move over me in one long sweep that made me shiver. "Quinzelle." He said the name like it tasted bad. "I don't know what I felt for her – I can't describe it. Dorian would say that I loved her, but I...I don't even know what that feels like." His voice got all weird, hollow and like, distant.

He lifted his hand palm up, offering it to me. "Let me show you." I clenched my teeth, thinking of what I'd seen. How his teeth felt at my neck. Twisting my fingers between Hristea's I held my breath and closed my eyes.

Images flashed by, and though I felt like I could reach out and grab them, I knew they were all in my head.

It was like watching a movie rewind. I saw a girl with boyish short hair, saw her smile. Saw Hristea, not like he is now. As a teenager with his long hair and all his big, arrogant, quarterback glory. I saw them fighting, watched her screaming at him. I saw him kiss her, like he kisses me...

_Hristea sat on a small bed, his longish brown hair brushing his shoulders. His expression held it's usual sensually sinister glow but his eyes, shining greener than ever, looked guarded and nervous. _

_He looked younger, but not by much, as if he hadn't completely filled out his body yet. His features weren't nearly as rough and retained a juvenile, impish young-ness. Hristea's hair fell partially in his face, lengthy and chaotic. _

_His shirt, held on by two buttons, had long since slipped over his right shoulder, showing a fair portion of his chest. "Why?" His voice was deep and coarse, sounding by far older than he appeared. _

_There was a girl standing by a small, rectangular window, grey curtains billowing out around her small body. She turned, running her palm over her short, dirty blonde hair while she clenched her teeth._

_She wore a tattered cream coloured gown, made of a thin fabric that held closely to her body. _

_She was very beautiful, though her boyish hair along with the burns and calluses on her hands, took away from her face. Her lips were soft, thin and pale, seeming to completely vanish when she gazed over at him with luminous blue eyes. Eyes that were as unruly and irrepressible as they were breathtaking._

"_Because I can't!" She shouted, her British accent was smooth yet echoed throughout the room. "I can't just leave..." She shook her head, voice trailing off. "You never should have asked me to." Her voice was gentle but fierce, her forehead furrowed as she stared at him. _

_Rage flickered across Hristea's face, an untameable fury that ignited first in his eyes before erupting over his features. "That isn't good enough." He hissed, fangs descending. "You find this place as bland and lifeless as I do and you know it." _

"_That doesn't mean I can just pack up and leave! What about my Father? My brothers? Did you ever think of that?" She growled, throwing her hands up in the air. _

"_I'm not like you, this is my home. I-I have friends an-and I...you cannot just expect me to runaway like you can." Her voice faded near the end, losing it's ferocity as she leaned back against the dark stone wall. _

_Hristea rose to his feet and the girl made this frightened scream in the back of her throat, when his palm slapped against the wall beside her head and his free hand snatched at the long chain hanging around her neck. _

_A pendant dangled from his fist, it was large and black with an elegant D engraved in gold in the centre. She gawked up at him, replacing the fear in her eyes with outrage as she jerked at his wrist. _

"_That isn't a good enough answer." Hristea snapped, pounding his fist against the wall, "You cannot keep up this facade forever! Just-" He exhaled slowly, his hand on the wall turning to a fist "-come with me." _

_She shook her head frantically, pushing him back and pacing away. "Ellie," Hristea started, the irritation remaining in his eyes though disappearing from his face. He grabbed her arm. "Quinzelle."_

_Hiding her face in his neck, Quinzelle murmured, "Please, Hristea. I can't go." He rested his chin on her head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Don't ask me this." _

"_I want you to come."Hristea whispered into her hair, agitation dripping from his words, his thick accent sounding harder. Quinzelle peeked up at him, frustration flickering in her blue eyes. _

"_Stop it." She said through her teeth, glowering at him now. "How would it look if I just vanished? My Father would know it was you he'd – he'd..." _

_Hristea chuckled, "What? Come after us?" He held her chin between his index finger and thumb, but Quinzelle quickly jerked away. _

"_I'm not coming." She exhaled, her tone holding a firm finality. "Now, it's late, I have a lot of work to do in the morning-" Quinzelle drew her fingers through her hair "-I think you should go."_

There was a pause, like a glitch, like...like...like there was something I wasn't supposed to see.

And then, the scene was rolling back, back, back until everything in my head swished and slid everywhere. Is it possible for like, your whole brain to get...I dunno, numb?

'Cause that's how this felt.

Then it stopped again, and the rush of the past pulsed through me. Raking it's claws over my skin and shoving me back into the memories that didn't belong to me.

_Hristea walked on, beside his brother, pacing through the rain with a large grin spread on his face while his twin went on about a girl. _

_Dorian's long black hair clung to his face and neck, spilling over his shoulders. Then over the padded shoulders of his blue jacket, a jacket gone black with the downpour of rain. His happy expression shone bright in the dark of the afternoon, the sun secreted behind layers of black clouds. _

_His features were beautiful in his youth, unlike his eyes, that burned with a liquid emerald age that went on forever. They were bright against the black of his wet hair and ivory skin, heartless and uncontrollable. _

_Hristea walked beside him, hair drawn back into a low ponytail, tied by a black ribbon that curved between his shoulder blades. Few dark brown strands clung to his forehead and neck, Hristea's eyes were fierce, wide and comical. _

_He wore a white blouse and a purple velvet waistcoat, beneath his light grey jacket. The buttons left completely undone, his coat blowing back behind him. _

_Their laughter rung over the rain, drawing the eyes of the passersby's and carriages that filled the streets. They began to drift far out of the upper class areas and slipped into the softer, open countryside. _

"_I grow bored of this place." Hristea sighed, running his hands over his hair. "We should retire home, back to Father." _

_Dorian chuckled, "Is it the place or the women you grow bored of, brother?" He cocked a brow at Hristea who smirked. His accent had not yet made the change from the aggressive Transylvanian to the fluent British. Dorian paused, tilting his head back and allowing the rain to fall over his face. _

_Giggling drew their gazes across the muddy road, to where a small group of girls scurried back inside a large old building. The rain surged over the caving roof, and down the high stone walls to the dead grass below. _

_Dorian grinned, showing his fangs. "I'll never tire of this place." _

_Hristea laughed loudly, bowing dramatically and swinging his arm. "After you then?" Dorian returned the gesture, striding toward the tragic house when Hristea grabbed his arm. _

_He pointed, away from the house and to the little stable off to the side. Dorian clenched his teeth impatiently, blowing out a breath when two men pushed open the great stable doors. _

_Out came a small girl, whose face was covered in black grime. Her eyes they noticed first, gorgeous blue eyes that pierced them with an exposed ferocity. Though she did not look at all like a woman, donning black slacks and a white, tattered blouse, tall riding boots, finished by a black cap. _

_She looked at them for an instant, then turned her attention back to the horse trailing behind her. It was large, and black. The new shoes it wore clicked on the stone before they met the squishy mud outdoors. He eyed them as she guided the horse to another, even smaller building. _

"_I'll..." Hristea murmured, eyes still fixated on the girl. "Join you shortly." They parted ways, Hristea glancing over his shoulder while his brother charmed the cloud of girls they had previously seen._

_Hristea sucked in a breath, narrowing his eyes on the girl. She was bent over holding the horse's hoof and examining the shoe, as he ran his hand over the horse's side. He felt the animal's fear, it's anxiety as he enclosed them, and watched as it flinched away from his touch. _

_Hristea could taste the race of the creature's blood along with the girl's – still oblivious to his presence – and his fangs lengthened with the maturing desire of his Hunger. _

"_What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" His tone was dark, thirsty and it was becoming more difficult to reign in his need as he came closer to her. _

_She jumped up, whirling around to face him. Her hat fell to the damp floor with a faint thud, as she gawked at him. "Weren't you just...?" She mumbled, collecting her hat then speedily composing herself again, forcefully lowering her voice. "I think you're mistaken." _

"_Am I?" Hristea nodded, meeting eyes with the horse, feeling the rapid beat thrumming inside his chest begin to synchronize every twentieth pound of his own heart with the first of the animal's. _

_She stared up at him, as he read her thoughts, saw her childhood, experienced her joy and her sorrow. For a second, he thought he saw the sudden understanding of what he was flash in her eyes, before it vanished. _

_She blinked, turning away from him and pulling her fingers through the horse's mane. "Perhaps I can help you with something?" He heard the slight edge in her voice, tasted her abrupt fear on his tongue and struggled to make himself relax. _

_Hristea nodded, "Perhaps." He was reluctant to make a formal introduction, but extended his hand anyway. "Hristea Dragomir." _

_She glanced at his hand and snorted, turning away from him to direct the horse to a stall and locking it inside. She pushed by him, not at all shy about showing her distaste. "You're not from around here." _

_But he was no longer listening._

_His arm burned where she had collided with him. The sudden rush of human contact made him shudder, the scent of her blood, the feel of her warmth taunted his thirst and seduced his senses._

_It took a moment before he could face her again. "I'm not, no." Hristea murmured, watching her wash her hands in a nearby bucket, carefully assessing the burns on her palms. _

"_Your accent, it isn't English." She pointed out, looking at him cautiously, before her expression softened and her eyes widened. "Did you come here by sea?" When he nodded, she smiled gently. "I've never been to the sea." The way she whispered made him realize it was not meant for his ears. _

_She shook her head again, and he felt her urgency to make him leave. She cleared her throat rudely, "Well, if I can't be of any service to you..." They were clearly words meant to be taken as an exit. But he was thinking that she could be of many services..._

"_Shoes." He said, blinking long and hard at her. "I need shoes." Hristea peered down at the horse's hooves and the shimmery metal beneath them. He hated the sound, hated the shrill noise that the shoes made galumphing over the cobbles in town. It hurt his ears. _

_She sighed, rolling her eyes before pacing out of his sight. Hristea followed her where she went, into a sizeable room where a large contraption of stone, metal and wood was in use. It choked out clouds of smoke and it stunk of coal in the room, the smells made his head spin violently._

_She noted his interest in the mechanism and grinned smugly. "It will take a while, if you could return at a later date then-"_

_Hristea interrupted, thinking his brother would take long enough. "I have time." Was all he said, leaning back against the thick wall. _

_She grunted, removing her hat and gathering tools. His eyes followed her hands, their callused and ugly appearance to their gentle touch and smooth movements. _

_Hours past but he did not feel it, engrossed in her work and her thoughts. Had she not said his name, he would not have realized another man had joined them. _

_He was stout and tall, perhaps a bit taller than himself. The man shared the same features of the girl, her eyes and the way she smiled. Hristea shook his hand firmly, gave a false smile and introduced himself though he did not care for this person. _

_His name was Ulrich and he was one of her elder brothers. Though that was about as much as Hristea felt he needed to know. _

_Hristea's thoughts lingered on how his name sounded on her lips, how he liked the sound, the way she said it so turbulently. He was glad when Ulrich left, glad that he was not surrounded by so much blood, so many smells. _

"_You're doing it wrong." He said at last, and she peered up at him with fury in her eyes. _

"_What?" She hissed, her boyish hair soiled by soot, and her face marred by a glossy sheen of sweat. She was insulted he knew but he could not, for the life of him, watch her go on. _

"_You're doing it the way a woman would." He was not afraid to gaze into her eyes when he spoke, he liked the challenge he met within their blue depths. She clenched her teeth, fingers clamping on the hammer in her fist. _

_He slid out from his jacket, rolling the sleeves of his blouse up before coming around to join her. He felt her heart leap when his hand slid over hers, "If you're going to continue pretending you're a man, then you should work like one." _

_Hristea smirked when he saw the fire in her eyes, saw the absolute hate for him she was nursing. "You are too gentle," He shook his head. "Treat it as if it means nothing to you, instead of as a lover." _

_She yanked her hand from his, speaking through her teeth. "Oh, thank you, I hadn't the slightest idea I'd been doing this wrong my whole life." _

_Despite the rage in her voice, Hristea chuckled. When he opened his mouth to speak, someone staggered in. Dorian walked in, his long hair disarrayed, his shirt hanging open while he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. _

"_We need to go." He peered up and narrowed his eyes at the girl, then at Hristea. The knowledge flashed over Dorian's face quickly, a wry grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. _

_The girl looked over at Hristea, in that moment he knew what she was asking, not because he felt her panic or heard her thoughts. The glint in her eye pleaded that he keep her identity a secret. Little did she know Dorian was much more aware than he was letting on._

_Wordlessly, they left, and as they did Hristea was nudged by both her confusion and relief. They were gone before she made it outside to watch them leave. _

_Miles away in moments, Hristea glowered at Dorian. "Chambermaids," He shook his head a fraction. "You could have come later." _

_His brother chortled, the noise booming through the forest in which they'd decided to stop. Dorian straightened his blouse, pulling the soaked fabric from his flesh and jerked his fingers through his extensive hair. Dorian scoffed, "Where do you think I've been for several hours? T'was enough for you," Dorian's eyes blazed wickedly. "Not that you were going to get very far." _

_Hristea hissed, spinning on the heels of his boots and striding away. Dorian was smug, trailing after his twin before the two paused, gazing through the maze of trees to the oncoming coach. _

_The wheels were smooth and rattled over the muddy road and deep potholes. It was drawn by two muscular white horses, the heavy beat of their hooves rung in their ears. _

_The man at the head of carriage, held the reigns loosely, his scent was familiar and inhuman. Because of his dead grey eyes, as bleary as the sky, tied with his lack of expression Dorian and Hristea knew immediately that he had been made Revenant. _

_Dorian vanished to the coach door, Hristea slowly following behind. He watched from a distance, as Dorian opened the door, accepting the offered hand. Emilia leaned far enough out to knot her fingers in his hair and press her lips to the corner of Dorian's mouth. _

_Her curly hair was pinned and braided around her head, kept up like a halo. She was young and angelic, the tale of her age hidden in the pools of her blinding green eyes. _

_She wore a very elegant gown, that had a high laced neck with intricate designs and rich colours. It was a common type of dress, he'd seen similar gowns many a time near their home in the upper side of town. Emilia knew nothing of maintaining a quiet, inconspicuous profile. _

_Hristea did not acknowledge either of them when he came nearer. Merely climbed in the carriage and slouched into the stiff seat. He was quiet when his siblings joined him again, turning his head to face the closed window._

I felt the world move away from me, like somehow the walls were peeling away from me. There was an emptiness and I was in it. Reality flooded in again suddenly, pouring in from all angles and closing in tightly, smothering me.

Gasping, I jerked up, lifting my hands to scrub my stinging eyes. Hristea laid by me, staring up at the ceiling. I exhaled heavily, feeling like I'd just come of the Tilt'a'Whirl at the fair back home. That ride always made me throw up.

Exhaling heavily, I glanced over my shoulder at him. "So, did she go with you?" I felt my forehead get wrinkly, "Go where?"

Hristea blinked, his green eyes flickering to and away from me in a second. His big chest rose and fell. "Yes, she did, in the end, come with me. We were to be leaving to join our Father soon, within the month I suppose, and at that point I didn't want to go without her."

I clenched my teeth, eyeing him while he spoke. His tone made me think I was pushing buttons that I shouldn't be. I snorted, "I wouldn't have gone so easily."

Hristea sighed, "I know."

Swallowing loudly, I started picking at my nail polish, biting my lip. The quiet that followed was like, all stiff and uncomfortable, it made me feel like I'd just laughed at a funeral or something.

I didn't hear him get up, but the next thing I knew, his rough hand was wrapping around my forearm and hoisting me to my feet. "Come with me."

Not like I had much choice, ya know, I mean it wasn't like I could break out of his grip or anything. When he'd dragged me out into the hallway, this nervous jolt went through my stomach. "Come where?"

"I just want to..." He didn't finish his sentence, just pulled me along. This made me all, I dunno, antsy? Yeah, like my skin got all hot and bothered and stuff. I guess that means I'm like, restless or something right?

It was hard to keep his pace now, and I had to speed up a lot to stay beside him. Hristea's expression was normal, all cocky and junk. But his eyes...they were kind of a muddle of emotions, more than I could read all at once.

He brought me down a long set of stairs and around to another hallway that went on and, on and, on for like, days. And then we weren't alone, two people were moving towards us, but I couldn't make out who. Hristea stopped abruptly and I stumbled into his side.

I was about to get really angry, really fast when my feet had stopped being on the ground and my back was slammed up on something hard. I cussed listening as it resounded in the hallway, before I couldn't speak anymore.

Grimacing a bit, I felt Hristea's mouth slant over mine, kind of welcoming it and hating it at the same time. Kissing right now was sudden, one of those messy, clumsy, out-of-nowhere kind of kisses you'd expect from somebody who's never done it before.

When he drew away from me, I saw the smug gloss over his eyes, saw him smirk fiendishly as Sabina and Sorina stormed past. From what I could see, they'd totally lost their aura of perfection.

Sabina glared blackly over her shoulder. It was a look meant for me, and had I not been so distracted it probably woulda scared me a bit. In this moment though, seeing that look made me feel good. Made me feel like I really did have something over them.

But it also brought back that vile montage.

Cringing, I tried to escape it, forcing the images away with every bit of mental power I had. Yanking him in again, I kissed back, trying to make him feel the urgency of it as much as I could.

His fangs pressed into my lower lip, and I felt the warmth of his huge hands on my legs, lifting me up so I could wrap them around his waist. When he finally parted with me again I was kinda, ya know, all breathless and stuff.

"I'm leaving." Hristea said matter-of-factly. I snorted, putting my hair out of my face. Hristea's expression was unyielding.

"What? Like, seriously?" I made a face. How totally cliché huh? "Where are you going?" It actually bugged me a lot that he was just gonna up and leave, just like that.

"I don't care." We were walking now, I knew, but I wasn't really focusing at all on that. I narrowed my eyes on him and he went on, "Just for a few days-"

I shook my head. "After what happened, you just wanna peace out? _Just like that_?" There was like, acid in my voice. Something made me angry about that, pissed me off more than I really wanted to let on.

He didn't answer. Groaning, I squirmed until he'd put me down again, making me feel all small and grumpy like some pissy little kid. Hristea put his meaty hand on my head, shaking me from side to side. "You are a little kid," He smiled then frowned, exhaling heavily. "If I'm going, I want you to come with me."

"If?" I clenched my teeth.

Hristea grinned, "You'll see."

I couldn't not gawk at them all, I mean like, _damn_! Hristea laughed at my expression.

"Why does one person have so many cars?" My voice echoed and then re-echoed in the gargantuan garage. It was dark and gloomy and damp though, with no windows at all – for like, obvious reasons – but the sudden splashes of colours everywhere woke up the bleary place.

"My brother and I used to share them, they were our..._collection_ of the ages." Hristea's green eyes got hard. "As we aged though, Dorian was more inclined to use our preternatural speed, as am I but-" He smiled widely "-I've never lost the fascination."

I leaned over the passenger door of a beaming yellow convertible Porsche and took a deep breath in. I love the smell of new car. Hristea leaned on the door, his back to me when I glanced over my shoulder. "I might have known." He said, and I could hear him smirking. But I wasn't paying that much attention.

I think I probably only saw a car like this on TV.

It was yellow. Adrenaline jumped through my whole body, and I ran my hand over the smooth, black leather interior.

"I'm in love." I muttered, thinking there was no way in hell that Harlow would ever believe me if I said I'd even been this close to a 911 Porsche. Not to mention it belonged to my vampire boyfriend. "Can I drive it?"

Hristea's laughter boomed in the garage and I thought that the echo would go on and, on and, on. "A fourteen-year-old? Behind the wheel of _my_ car? In your dreams, love."

I didn't see him move – didn't hear him either. Hristea sat in the driver's seat and I climbed over the passenger door to sink into the deep, crisply seat beside him in awe.

Okay, so this is totally going on the _top ten things I never thought would happen to me _list. I was excited when the car hummed – no! – _purred_ to life and Hristea's smile got bigger and bigger.

We went farther and farther from the castle, me twisted in my seat to watch the humongous building disappear into the distance. On the open road I started to think of Kristine. She was probably freaking out right now – no doubt had like, a SWAT team out looking for me.

That thought gave way to a bunch of others. Salem came to mind then, and Victoria. _Vikki_. I clenched my teeth, remembering how I'd walked in on them. How long had _that_ been going on for? I grunted at the big bulge of outrage forming in the pit of my stomach. A stomach that hadn't been filled in hours...

I turned my head to Hristea, who's face and eyes had got all angry. His fingers, massive fingers, made a fist on the steering wheel that seemed really, really small in his gasp.

"Sorry." I said, feeling bad that he could read my thoughts.

Hristea's lips barley moved when he answered me, "Don't mention it."


	19. Chapter Nineteen

"I'm hungry." I whined, Hristea's eyes flashed to me and way quickly, the car smoothly speeding up. I leaned my head back, liking the feel of wind in my hair – typical blonde, I know.

There were like, three other cars we passed, but we were going so fast I couldn't see inside the windows. It was dark out, with no moon and barely any stars, it reminded me of when I'd driven Robert's car.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" I asked, not looking at him. Hristea didn't reply for a while, when I went to ask again he exhaled loud enough to irritate me.

"I'm thinking." Was all he said, I tilted my head to the side, eyeing him closely. His eyes looked all grumpy and guarded, big arms flexing. I pursed my lips, clenching my teeth when my stomach growled again.

"Thinking about what?" I pressed, seeing all the agitation lines in his face come to the surface. He looked at me, glared and, turned away all in about a quarter of a second.

Hristea didn't say anything, and I slouched in my seat. So this obviously wasn't going to be the gung-ho road trip I'd imagined. Then again, I guess I wasn't counting the factor that I was with a grouchy, old vampire on this trip.

I felt the car slow, and my gut tensed. There was a slouching, ugly shack ahead with gaudy lights. The kind of cheap diner you'd see in some old country movie or something.

Sitting up I faced Hristea. "You're not serious?" My words were hissed, but he just grinned. "We're going to get stuck in some stupid bar fight, I just know it."

"Been there, done that." Hristea bared his fanged in a wolfish smirk, parked and opened the door. I gaped at him and he chuckled. "Don't tell me you're afraid."

I rolled my eyes. Not afraid, but there was no way in hell he was gonna get me to go in that nasty place. Hristea pulled the keys from the car, dropping them in his pant pocket as he squinted at me.

Laughing, I tried to look cute – not that it was hard – when I said, "What, don't you trust me?" He snorted, leaving in the car and disappearing into the night just as two loud trucks came into the lot, carrying with it a bunch of even louder dudes.

Oh, great. So he ditches the adorable blonde in the fancy car, that nobody can miss, just in time for a hoard of dweebs to roll up. My hero. I slunk down in the passenger seat, hoping that maybe they wouldn't see me. Yeah, right.

Some of them went towards the dump Hristea had gone into while a handful of them started to walk towards me. Okay, now I'm kinda scared.

Vampire or not, when that jerk gets back I'm gonna beat the shit outa him!

Yellow. Of all the freakin' colours of the God damned rainbow, he had to pick _yellow_! I slid over the console, reached under the wheel and tried to boost the car. Yeah, because I'm suddenly frigging able to do that too! You'd be surprised what desperation can do to a chick.

Frustrated, I kicked the underside of the wheel, squealing furiously. "That's an awfully nice car." Somebody slurred, his thick accent didn't help either. Omigod what is this? The Day of all that is Cliché?

"No shit Sherlock." I snapped, still running my fingers over all the smooth plastic beneath the wheel, trying to find something loose. I didn't acknowledge his whistles.

"And why's a pretty little thing like you behind the wheel of a car like that?" Two greasy hands landed on the driver's door, and I ran my eyes up the lanky arms attached to them, to the awkwardly round-shouldered, oily-faced, brown-haired pervert they belonged to.

I clenched my teeth when he cocked a bushy brow at me. Had he not seen me trying to boost it? How the hell would he know if it even belonged to me?

He started to lean closer, making me cringe back. His breath smelt like garlic and whiskey. Ugh, I feel like the loser in all the movies who gets eyeball raped by some nastacular old dude.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The guy whirled around, facing Hristea's glimmering white eyes. I watched the outrage line the man's features, then panic, and then fear. His eyes bulged and he started out into a run so hard that he tripped and fell into the gravel, writhing on the ground a moment before sprinting back to one of the trucks.

Staring after him, I slipped back into the passenger seat when Hristea opened the door. The whisper of the engine made me flinch, and I gasped when Hristea dropped something heavy and warm into my lap.

It took me until we'd gotten back on the road and we were far, far away from the shack before I could speak. "You didn't...but I thought that-" He interrupted me.

"That I would kill him?" His eyes, fixated on the road narrowed when he spoke. I clenched my teeth, feeling the muscles in my jaw flex as I nodded.

Hristea tilted his head, leaving a hand on the wheel and running the other over his short hair. "The idea appealed to me," He nodded. "But I was concerned that it would frighten you."

I laughed sardonically, "_You_ were _concerned_?" The idea didn't really sink in too well, and I exhaled, forcing the past experience from my head I peeled back the wrapper in my lap and gazed down at the sandwich in my lap.

Grimacing, I muttered, "Creepydiner food," under my breath. Hristea's gaze blew over me for an instant before he was staring back out the windshield.

Letting the quiet drop in, I picked at the food in my lap not too sure if I was hungry any more. It was annoying having to sit with somebody so like, not talkative at all. Hristea's silence made me feel totally awkward.

"Where are we going?" I mumbled the question, leaning back and staring into the cloudless sky. It was like, totally black up there. Well, like, totally black except the random bright blotches of stars.

He didn't say anything for a bit, so I kinda didn't hear him when he said, "I don't know." It took it all about four seconds before it clicked in my head that we were speeding down some out-of-the-blue road, ya know, just for shits and giggles.

"Hey," I said, after a few minutes staring up, wondering what it would be like to be a star. I mean, ever wonder what they think about? Sure it's all like space junk and hot air, but everything's gatta be...I dunno, _living_, right? In some form.

Hristea turned his head a tad, looking at me thoughtfully. I clenched my teeth. "What are you-" I thought for a second, trying to think of some way to make conversation. "-scared of?"

His eyes widened and he laughed, I mean the toss-your-head-back kind of laugh, like a side-splitting laugh. It was kinda beautiful. His fangs glimmered in the shadow, shimmery like his eyes.

Hristea shook his head, I could still see the silhouette of his shoulders moving with laughter. "Nothing." He cleared his throat, and I could feel the car around me slowing down so smoothly, so like incredibly soft.

I rolled my eyes, "Liar. There's gatta be something, I mean, what if suddenly there were no people on the planet that you could leech off of?" Hristea pursed his lips and tilted his head, his hands tightening on the wheel as we slithered around a bend.

"I'm afraid to..." I could tell he was really trying to think about this. Hristea grunted in the back of his throat, making a face. "I'm afraid of living forever."

I snorted, "Well, how does that work? You're gonna be hot, young, really fast and, really strong and, really hot for the rest of like, time." I laughed sardonically. "What's bad about that?"

Hristea looked at me, all intense. "You're not looking at the whole picture. Sure there's perks, but your friends and family die around you-"

I interrupted, "Not for you – all your friends and your whole family is already dead."

Hristea ignored me, going on. "That's the easy part. Once all that's over, you have to learn to adapt to rapidly changing times. Humans are always trying to advance themselves, creating new devices from old. That alone, can make someone crazy, it happened to my brother, my Father. Just because something looks pretty doesn't mean what's inside is as nice. These things – these abilities – being superhuman if that's easier to understand, it's no gift, it's a curse." Hristea said this angrily, like it'd really pushed his buttons a little too hard.

"Look," He sighed. "There is nothing marvellous – nothing _hot_ – about living off the lives of others. I'll never feel the sun, never feel the light of day. You could never grasp what it's like, only seeing movies, looking at pictures, trying to imagine what it must feel like to be human."

I swallowed, slouched in my seat and pressed my lips together. Okay, well, I got a speech outa him, that was good. But like, why does he have to be so _blah_ all the time, ya know, like depressed.

"Um, well then." I shrugged, trying to think of something to say back. My whole head was blank, I know, how rare is that right? Usually this is the part where I say something sarcastic, but I can't. Maybe I'm catching a cold.

"You're too young to understand." Hristea said through his teeth. I put my hair out of my face glowering at him. I mean, for somebody who can read minds, he sure just pulled out the card I hate the most. Then he exhaled, not looking at me when he said. "Too young for me."

I clenched my teeth, staring at him and waiting for the punch line. It never came.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I growled, anger jumping up on me out of nowhere. Hristea glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. He didn't say anything.

I laughed darkly, "What? You went through all that effort just to dump me now? Like a billion miles from home, in the middle of absolutely nowhere, at night time? Why not just pull over and ditch me on the shoulder now?"

He blinked, "I'm just saying-" I didn't let him finish.

"You're just saying you're still the biggest jerk alive. You can't just show up in people's lives, fuck everything up and then peace out. It's like, you come outa nowhere screw around with my whole...whole – I dunno – my whole _reality_ and then leave it like that." I hissed, my head starting to hurt with the niggling pain of a headache. "Did you ever think that maybe it's not you that's sick of living, it's living that hates you?"

There wasn't anything about the way the car pulled over now, and I smashed into the dashboard when he stopped. Hristea wasn't looking at me. "Get out."

"Fine!" I jumped out of the car, slamming the door as hard as I could. The wheels spun on the dirt shoulder, before he was speeding off again, and I was watching the lights disappear into the dark. "Ass." I muttered, tilting my head back to stare up at the stars.

Okay, so...which way is home? The way I figured, that if I just walked straight, at some point I'd find some kind of...landmark and I could find my way from there. But there's this, itty bitty little issue, ya know, no big deal or anything – it's not all that important. I'm just IN TRANSYLVANIA!

Ugh! I hate my life!

Ya know, I hope I trip and cut my hand and bleed to death, just frigging die right here on the road. Then what would he do? He'd probably come back with a straw – can't waste food now can we?

Clenching my teeth I started walking, man, if I wasn't so angry I'd probably be panicking. He's such a jerk, a little dose of the truth and he kicks me out, not like it doesn't surprise me. Hristea is so messed in the head, I mean what the hell is wrong with him?

I just can't catch a break.

Whatever, it's not like there's only one fish in the sea right? I mean, Salem was a dick, Hristea is a dick. Maybe I'm just destined to date complete losers for the rest of my teenage life.

Losers that are like twenty million, billion years older than me.

Well, what did you learn from this Sawyer? Oh, yeah, stick to guys that are your own age – your own _species_! Screw him. All guys are stupid, that's it, they're all just morons.

And now I'm over it.

One time, I got really drunk at Harlow's but we were like, at her house alone and for some reason instead of jacking a car or something I walked home. Harlow's place is like twenty minutes from my house but it took almost half an hour for me to get halfway home. Let's just say I get really clumsy, really fast when I'm wasted.

So I just, ya know, hitchhiked home. Yeah, yeah, I know pretty stupid right? What if I got picked up by some creeper who like, shanked me or like raped me and stuff? But I didn't so ha!

It would save me some valuable time doing that. Then again, I dunno where I am, and what if that greasy dude from the shack got me? Like, eww!

Pushing my hair out of my face, I loosened the buttons of my blouse, feeling the cold night air come through the thin fabric of my tank top and flood my body with chills. Oddly enough, it was pretty refreshing. Cleared my head up a bit.

I walked for a while, just walked. It got colder and colder, until the sun started coming up and the sky got all pretty coloured. My legs hurt. My feet hurt. My ego hurt.

I felt sick and tired, it was such an awful feeling.

Birds sat on some tree branches, gawking at me with their beady eyes. I leaned over, slouching down on the shoulder, and resting my back on a thick tree trunk.

Ya know that feeling when you're brain feels like it's got no like, _brain liquid_ to sit in anymore? And it's almost like you've just got this tired dehydrated lump in your head, then your whole body just says, "Fuck you, we're having a nap."

Mhm, that's what this feels like.

Hanging my head back, I sucked in a big breath and let myself doze. It felt fantastic being able to close my eyes, my brain sunk, I could feel my whole body go to mush around me.

I think I slept for a solid five minutes before I heard the familiar murmur of an engine. It's like, the kind you hear on race car movies, and it's almost as quiet as a humming bird.

"We don't have much time."

I snorted, shaking my head and making a face when the rough tree bark tugged at my hair. "_You_ don't have much time. I've got all day."

Hristea growled, "I swear if you make me get out of this car..."

Laughing, I opened my eyes to glare at him. The car door was open a crack, and he looked old. And by old I don't mean like your usual arrogant twenty-year-old old.

I mean like, he had these dark, ugly purple bruises under his eyes that my dad sometimes got when he worked real late. And his smirk-lines were starting to show around his mouth, his green eyes looked like they were shrinking back inside his head, but widening at the same time.

Okay, now I feel like I'm really dating an old man.

"What's up with you?" I asked, hobbling to my feet and stretching before making my way to the car. "That was really a douche bag move back there. I mean, what if something bad happened to me?"

Hristea rolled his eyes dramatically. "You say that like I _don't_ keep tabs on you at all times." He shut his door again, eyes on the horizon while I climbed in the passenger seat.

"I bet." I snapped, closing the door and feeling the smooth movement of the car starting up again. Hristea pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand, steering with the right, I heard him exhale all gravely and stuff.

Tilting my head back, I watched the colourful clouds speed by above us. It looked like a rainbow threw up. With a yawn, I slanted myself across the console and leaned into Hristea's side. His arm was heavy when he curled it around my shoulders.

Sleeping was easy for me, I'm pretty sure I could pass out anywhere and have absolutely no problems. The thing I wasn't a big fan of was the dreaming part, 'cause you can't control those things.

I mean, everybody says just pinch yourself and you'll wake up. What if you were getting chased by some rabid, frothing at the mouth, psychopathic, bloodthirsty beast, are you really gonna stop and think _just_ _pinch myself_, and boom-bam all better? Like, c'mon, let's get serious.

I was dreaming I was in the hospital. I hate hospitals, they always smell clean, but like a fake clean, as if it's just some way to cover up all the death and bad things. That, and the doctors always give you shitty lollypops.

I remembered this day, it wasn't that long ago. I was twelve. Dad rushed in my room way early in the morning and woke me up, I slept in the car until Mom started crying and stuff. I thought she was going to die.

Dad's friend Miranda Bernard was the doctor that came for Mom, Miranda was a BO or BOB – something to do with babies.

I was scared. Dad was running all over the place, he wouldn't tell me what was happening or why we were here. They put Mom in a wheelchair and told her to breathe like _he-he-hoo, he-he-hoo_. Then they raced her into this big room with bright lights and this massive table thing.

And I just stood against the wall in the hallway, counting the green polka dots on my pyjamas until Dad came up to me. His hair was all a mess, which kinda freaked me out, his face was all shiny and sweaty. Then he said, "We're having a baby Sawyer!"

This wasn't anything new. He said that like a million times before and maybe it's just me, but I don't see no baby. I nodded, taking his hand and walking down the hall, Dad made me sit in a big itchy chair outside the room Mom was in. I wasn't old enough to go inside or something like that.

But I could hear everything that was going on in there. Clutching the arms of the chair I tried to think of things that rhymed with baby, ya know, to distract myself.

Baby...maybe...taby...laybe...faybe...raybe...kaybe.

Then things that started with the letter B.

Baby...body...bed...balloon...bored...baby...bathroom...button.

Somebody was screaming. The sound made me jump in my seat and my nails scrapped against the annoying fabric of the chair. I closed my eyes, counting backwards from 100.

99...98...97...96...

The screaming got louder the more I counted. My heart was stinging and thumping in my chest all crazy and, fast. I tried to do some of that breathing Dr. Miranda told Mom to do, but it just made my chest hurt even more.

People rushed by me, somebody in a purple suit, wearing a blue mask and a bright orange bandana came out of the room. They had glasses on, and white gloves that were covered in red.

I felt dizzy.

"I want my Daddy." I told them. They person just looked at me and turned away, walking down the hall to join a group of nurses. Swallowing loudly, I leaned over my knees to pull up my pant legs. There were a bunch of black bruises all on me. I compared them to the ones on my arms, poking them with my fingers.

I sat in that chair forever, breathing in nasty clean air, and watching a big red rash form on my arms because of the chair. Four hours passed. Then six. Then ten.

Then the shrieking stopped.

Someone said, "Congratulations Nathan, it's a girl." I jumped from my chair and shoved through the doors. I thought Dad would be all excited, and Mom would be all excited too.

There was blood all over the table thing, and there was a big blanket over my Mom. In Dr. Miranda's gloved hands was the smallest, weirdest little body I'd ever seen. It was soaked in what looked like cherry Jell-O.

Dad's face went ghost pale, his hand squeezed my Mom's. Mom sat straight up, her red eyes welling up again when she started shaking her head. Everyone in the room went quiet.

The teeny Jell-O body didn't make a noise...

I was woken up by something big and wet slapping onto my cheek. Opening my eyes, I stared up at Hristea. He looked better. I got the feeling I wasn't the only one who took a long nap. Another raindrop fell on my face, and I lifted my hand to wipe it away.

Shifting, I glanced to my left to stare at the bottom of the steering wheel. For an instant I wondered what Harlow would say if I told her I had a power nap in a vampire's lap.

"That's when things started getting out of hand." Hristea said, it wasn't a question. It kind of irritated me that he could just pry into my head whenever he wanted to. His lips twitched, fighting off a grin.

"Yeah, I guess." I nodded, narrowing my eyes up at the sky. Overcast, just like my mood. "I think my Dad just put me where he thought he should've been."

Hristea pursed his lips. "Were you sad?" His expression wasn't with his words, I kinda figured he was super distracted. Ironically enough, he peered down at me and said, "I can multitask."

Snorting, I shrugged a shoulder. "Would you be sad if Dorian was a stillborn?" I watched his eyes light up a bit and shook my head.

Hristea buzzed his lips, tilting his head a fraction when he answered me. "I don't know about sad, perhaps unbearably bored." Then he sighed, "I think his absence would bother me as much as it did when he left."

I cocked a brow at him. "Left where?" Hristea's hands flexed on the wheel, he didn't say anything for a while then. I didn't pretend not to be more than a bit irritated, when I sat up and slunk back into my seat.

Hristea exhaled, the Porsche catching even more speed, the whisper of the engine becoming more of a muffled mumble. "Left for Britain after he and Emilia-" He glanced at me from the corner of his eyes, like he was hesitating. I acted like I didn't notice "-Engraved on each other, he thought the separation would...break the bond."

Hristea clenched his teeth, his fangs dropping over his bottom lip. "He left me with our suicidal, inconsolable sister then went out of his way to entwine paths with Lucinda Anne Lacoste, in order to _fix_ things with Emilia."

"And then Analeigh came into the picture?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. When Hristea nodded, I went on. "What's Engraving? How do you break it? Dorian dated that bitch from the party?"

Hristea glared at me, the annoyance in his eyes starting to show on his face. "I wouldn't say dated, more or less _used_ Lucy so he could come home. Engraving is..." Hristea trailed off and I could see his reluctance to explain it to me.

I rolled my eyes, "You don't have to tell me if it makes you all crotchety, it's not that big a deal." I mean, if he started to tell me then stopped I'd be pissed, but since I didn't know about it who cares.

"It's when we bite," His eyes tapered slightly, his big shoulders tensing. "When we bite, and mark someone's blood as our own-" I interrupted.

Scoffing I threw my hands up a bit. "That's it? That's all?" I laughed, "You made a big fuss over that? What's with you today?"

Hristea hissed, I pressed my lips together. "_It's not that simple_!" He snapped. "When you Engrave on someone, you share thoughts, emotions, it's a larger network than you're imagining. If...if I got hurt...it would hurt you too."

His voice got distant and dark near the end, I couldn't see it, but it felt like Hristea just crossed a gap and wouldn't let me join him on the other side. I know, cheesy, right?

"That would suck." I said, I mean, I'd never have my own private thoughts. Ever. "Have you ever been Engraved? God – that sounds like engaged."

Hristea snorted, holding back a smirk, but his green eyes were guarded and secretive. "It's almost the same." He smiled, "I've been once, wasn't my favourite experience. Being so closely bonded with anyone isn't really...something I do. Humans are so urgent, expressive. Undying don't have such a wide range of emotion, it's overwhelming, drives you to do things, think things, you wouldn't typically do."

I chuckled, "Like what?" Hristea tilted his head from side to side and I grimaced at the loud cracks that came when he did it. His fingers loosened and tightened on the wheel.

He didn't answer.

"You're not going to tell me are you?" I frowned, Hristea shook his head. "Some boyfriend." I said sarcastically, "You know everything about me and won't tell me anything. What the hell?"

Hristea looked at me seriously, "What I choose not to tell you, you wouldn't want to know anyways." He leaned back in his seat, eyes ahead.

"Like Quinzelle." I said it, and meant it as a stab. Hristea didn't so much as blink when he said, "Like Quinzelle."

The rain came heavy then, loud, icy droplets that broke on your skin. I flinched at the first few, dropping my head back and closing my eyes. Rain felt good, I stretched my arms up into the air, feeling the wind whip over my bare arms. My hair stuck to my face.

I kept my eyes closed when I asked, "Do you ever let anyone in?" The words felt weird coming out of my mouth. And I remembered the day my therapist asked me the same question.

"No." Hristea stated. I remembered saying the exact same thing.

I blinked my eyes open, taking a deep breath of the chilly moist air, putting my hair out of my face. "Maybe you should." I shrugged, hoping Hristea wouldn't laugh in my face like I did when Dr. Long suggested the same thing to me.

But Hristea turned his head a fraction, glimmering green eyes burning into me, his face shimmering with the rain, droplets clinging to his eyelashes. "I'm trying."

I smirked.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Yeah, I know, late as usual :S But um, I dunno, when I went to upload this page and blah blah blah I figured out this chapter is just a smidge over 9000 words! YAY MEE! lol, I know that's probably not a lot and I've written a lot more before but not for a long time :) so I hope this makes up for my absence? And one more thing, OMG HAS ANYBODY ELSE SEEN ECLIPSE? That was my absolute favorite book and the movie is amazing, well...they missed a few important lines and scenes but compared to the Twilight movie they made it was fantastic. I think I'm kind of obsessed with Jackson Rathbone now (Jasper) lmao anyways, sorry about being so late guys please review and let me know what you think!

~Selene

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Chapter 20

"Kristine, I can explain." I said, biting my lip. She lifted an eyebrow at me. "Okay, I can't." I sighed, "But I'm alive, so it's cool."

"It's cool?" She shouted, hands in the air while she stomped around the kitchen. Kellen and Stellar sat at the table, mouths full trying not to laugh at me.

Gavril was sitting on the counter, his weirdly long legs still almost reaching the floor, he looked more like Kristine when he was angry. Pretty sure, he's like ten thousand times more upset about the whole running away thing than his Mom.

Uncle Nick trailed behind Kristine in the teeny kitchen, hands on her shoulders, and then on her hips, and then on her shoulders again. It sounded like he was trying to cool her down – like it was _totally_ working.

"You vanish for what?" Kristine looked at Uncle Nick who staggered back and mumbled the word, "Three." Then Kristine went on yelling, waggling her finger at me. "_Three_ days! Not one, not two but _three days_! Without medication, without food – or clothes for that matter – with none other than _Hristea Dragomir_! Do you have any idea who he is?"

Gavril cut in just as I was about to drop the best excuse I could think of in two seconds. It was more than a bit irritating.

"Better yet, do you have any idea what people would do if they caught you with him?" Gavril asked, not giving me any time to answer. "Eliani would string you up by your fingernails if she-"

I waved my hand at him, "Really, Gavril, really? I can handle the bimbo okay."

"What do you think this is? You don't listen all that great do you?" Gavril hissed, slipping off the counter and getting all up in my face. I clenched my teeth, hands balling into fists.

"Get the hell outa my face before I break yours." I snarled through my teeth, having to tilt my head way the hell back to glower at my abnormally tall cousin. You think he hides stilts in those skinny jeans maybe?

Uncle Nick pushed us apart, pointing sternly at me when he said, "I think it's about time we called your Father." He glanced at Gavril, who still looked like Kristine, his green-brown eyes getting all hard and angry. I snorted, yeah, 'cause I'm so scared of the ninety pound weakling!

Kristine glared at me and scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and heading to the office. I heard the door slam, Uncle Nick following after her a minute later.

Rolling my eyes, I turned for the stairs, wincing when Gavril's gangly hand snatched my wrist. Kellen scratched back in his chair, starting to get up. Pulling against Gavril's hand I thought about swinging wide with my free arm, when he said, "If someone saw you..." And he shook his head, letting me go.

As I was going up to my room, somebody screamed, "They're taking everything from me!" Then the front door slammed.

Changing into my PJ's I wondered what Dad would say when Uncle Nick told him that I took off for three days with a vampire. The whole idea made me laugh. What did Dad even think would happen when I came here? That hopefully the freaky superstitions and vampire mumbo-jumbo would be fun? Or like, I dunno, make me behave? Yeah, okay.

That's just not my kind of party.

So, the way I figured, Kristine is gonna up the length of my house arrest now. A month maybe, probably two.

Well, bring it on then.

It was awkward being at school again, now that I wasn't a ghost in the halls anymore. People looked at me weird, I mean, some nerdy dude asked me to sit with him at lunch, and another girl spat at me when I was on my way to second period.

I think I liked being a ghost.

Gavril didn't talk to me, not that it really bothered me at all, we didn't chill at school all that much anyways.

Ya know, I totally love attention and all that fun stuff, but like jeez! So I beat up some snotty blonde, that was like, my monthly routine back home. My principal has a special desk in her office just for me – I get to personalize it with as much graffiti as I want.

But school vandalism is like, first semester of grade nine. Which is, ya know, totally old! You gatta mix it up a little, keep things interesting.

Sitting in third period science, I sat at the back closest to the windows. A tall girl sat in front of me, I stared at the frizzy red braid that hung over the back of her seat. Damn! Girl's hair was longer than mine! And I pride myself on my hair. And lying. And pick pocketing. And driving. Okay – I'm just amazing alright!

Listening to my IPod, and drawing bucked teeth and moustaches on all the cheesy pictures in my textbook the girl turned around. I pretended not to notice her staring at me. Until it got annoying.

"Can I, um, help you?" I asked, tapping my green marker on my desk, eyeing up the picture of the boy in my text book, holding a handmade model of the solar system. He's got the face for some massive glasses, maybe a black gap in the teeth...

The red head in front of me glanced around, her grey eyes holding on the teacher at the front of the room, marking our essays on Light and Optics. She smiled at me, a great big smile with two rows of metal and some neon yellow elastics.

Grimacing, I gazed down at my book again, putting my hair outa my face as I continued doodling. She giggled, this loud, irritating giggle. Maybe she'd look good with a black gap too. "You're pissing me off, wanna make this snappy?" I mumbled colouring in a carefully drawn cowboy hat.

She sighed, "I'm Janelle." She prattled purple manicured nails on my desk, then played with her braid.

Dropping my marker, I leaned back in my desk, flipping the pages in search of a picture worthy of my artistic talent. "And I'm straight." I snapped, flinching when she giggled again, like I was flipping Jeff Dunham or something. People started to look.

"Oh," She nodded enthusiastically, tucking some loose hair behind her ear. "I know." Funny how this girl is like, a hardcore ginger, and Analeigh is more like a scarlet. Wonder how I'd look red head.

"So, what's it like dating an Undying, I bet it's exciting – is it exciting?" She leaned over my desk, face all in mine. I was about to close my book on her nose when her words sunk in.

"How do you know about that?" All the breath kinda seeped outa me before I could speak, so my words were like a dying old dude's last wheeze.

She gasped, "So it _is_ true!" Janelle got all squirmy and crazy in her desk, I mean, the frigging definition of _ants in your pants_.

Shaking my head frantically, I shushed her. "No it isn't! Don't tell people it is – because it isn't!" My hands got all clammy and finicky, it was like my heart got all fast and crazy.

Why is it such a big deal? So I'm dating – or having an on-and-off kinda fling – with a million-year-old vampire, who cares? Like, pfft! Analeigh went around the block with that shit, so I'm like average Joe. Oh wait – did I forget to mention he's a frigging vampire? Eats people for fun, normal junk like that!

"Tell people?" She laughed, looking around the classroom. "Everyone knows!" My heart went crashing into my throat, and I had to clap my hand over my lips to keep the thing from coming outa my mouth.

Scrambling up from my seat, I wove through the desks to the front of the room. The teacher stared blackly up at me, and I started to think that maybe all that hate and rage in his eyes wasn't because I drew in every textbook he handed out, but because he _knew_.

"C-can I..." I stopped myself, ogling the silver chain under his collar and the impression of a cross I could see through his blouse. Racing for the door, I hurried out into the hall, trying to look as cool as I could while sprinting to my locker.

"Sawyer Cohen."

I paused, knowing better than to stop and make small talk. How do I know better? Oh, ya know, if you were being chased by cops would you turn around when they called your name? Didn't think so.

So I kept walking a bit, peering over my shoulder to meet eyes with the principal. He was tall, kinda chubby and had a _really_ bad comb over. Oddly enough, he kinda reminded me of Dr. Dawn, with his bulldog-ish features and husky shoulders.

_Black Wood Asylum_. Those three words rung in my head like a giant siren as he came closer and closer.

"Come," He smiled at me. It was totally fake. "I want to talk to you." Excuses flashed through my head a mile a minute, as they usually do when I need to lie to save my ass.

"I was just on my way to my locker – had the wrong binder – and I have to get back to science, ya know, there's a huge lecture I'm missing and-" He didn't let me finish, and I knew that I wasn't gonna get off so easily.

Following after him, I thought about just sprinting down another hall, hoping he wouldn't release the hounds or something. But he just kept glancing over his shoulder at me like he was waiting for me to do it.

"Please, sit." He said, when we were in the office, and the first thing that came to mind was The Bucket. Creaky hinges, icy overly padded seats and, soaking wet straps.

I looked around the room, at the long fish tank in the wall, the motivational poster beside a giant bookcase. There were a ton of papers on his desk, all different colours they piled around a fancy looking computer and it's thin keyboard.

The room smelt of _Fabreeze_ and expensive cologne. It made the whole place seem smaller.

Sitting down slowly, I leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, with the slippery back supports and the seat that was like, ten times too low. I stared at the big name tag on the front of the desk, that read PRINCIPAL VEN GAUDET in big silvery letters.

"You're new here," He smiled, another fake smile. "So it doesn't surprise me how lightly you take The Undying, no doubt you thought it was merely a tourist story, yes?" I nodded a fraction and he went on. "And I assume you're just the victim of a heinous rumour going about the school? What with the being seen out of town with one of _them_, among other things."

Not saying anything I slouched in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest and gazing out the long, rectangular window across from me. Looked like it was gonna rain some more – fantastic.

"Now, Sawyer, you were suspended for fighting with a few girls not too long ago, and your record from your previous school is everything except clean." Principal Ven Gaudet stated, his tight lips pressing together as he glared at me.

I lifted my chin at him, rolling my eyes nice and slow. "Um, I kinda have places to be sir, so if we could wrap this up sometime today, that'd be great." I prattled my fingernails on the fat arms of the chair, leaning forward.

Principal Ven Gaudet grinned at me, it was an old, sour grin that made my stomach knot. "You're cousins with the Cohen boy, Gavril, yes?" I nodded impatiently. "I'm certain then, that you must know of Analeigh Andréa, because of how close she and Gavril were-" I stayed cool and quiet, not giving anything away "-She was the human consort of The Devil Himself, Dorian Dragomir, and not a very loved person of the community."

He paused, almost like he wanted me to say something about Analeigh and Dorian, give him a bone to chew on. Clenching my teeth, narrowing my eyes at him when I said, "If you're trying to threaten me," I shook my head trying not to laugh. "You're gonna need to work a lot harder than that."

Principal Ven Gaudet moved some papers around on his desk, examining an empty coffee mug and then sighed, straightening another pile of papers. "I'm not threatening you Sawyer, consider it a warning instead." His voice got all low and hostile in an instant, "Those who support The Undying don't last long around here. You might think you're bold and brave seeing Hristea Dragomir, but I promise you the path you're about to embark on is as bumpy as it is dangerous-"

I snorted, pushing back in my chair and heading for the door, not listening to the rest of his bull shit. I slammed the office door behind me, storming into the hall just as third period was getting out.

What a jerk! I mean, he's supposed to be a principal, ya know – look out for the students not flipping bait them! The way I figured, I just let the whole thing blow over, deal with whoever had any beef with me and everything would be sunshine and gummy bears.

Did he think he could scare me with a stupid warning? I mean, it's obvious that town's people would go all angry mob, pitch forks and torches when the leeches roll up. C'mon, that's just mob mentality right?

Worst case scenario, I get in a few brawls, get expelled or something, Kristine finally snaps and I go home. Big whoop!

I went to photography late, dropping into my desk mid-discussion and the whole class gawked at me like I had a flesh eating monster sucking on my face.

Ignoring Eliani and her whispering, I hunched over my desk fiddling with the zooms on my camera when the teacher announced, "Alright everybody outside!"

"What?" I said, snapping up in my chair and glancing around the room, feeling my forehead with my left hand to make sure there was actually no monster on me.

Ms. Carr cleared her throat, moving her hair out of her face enough to give me this nasty look. "Well, Sawyer, if you had been here for the past two weeks you would know that we planned to go outside. Think of it as an ISU – Independent Study Unit."

I rolled my eyes. Like I don't know what an ISU is. "It's, like, gonna rain." I shook my head, tilting my head towards the windows. Scratch that, it _is_ raining.

People were getting up anyways and I just noticed they were all carrying jackets and ponchos and baggy sweaters. Clenching my teeth, I looked back at Ms. Carr who was zipping up this big puffy grey designer coat.

Pushing out of my chair, I peered down at the shredded blue jeans, purple Vans and, flimsy black DG sweater I wore and cussed. That figures, date the bloodsucker and deal with all the bad luck.

Following the class outside _and_ into the rain, I watched everybody run off with their friends, with their accents, and their stupid rain. Eliani and her cult glared over their shoulders at me, I rolled my eyes, not wanting to handle any of their crap right now.

Besides, I kicked her ass once, how many more times did she need to be humiliated. I mean, it's pretty pathetic when you're seventeen and being owned by a fourteen-year-old. Not that I totally wouldn't do it again – like c'mon what a rush!

Combing my hair back, I turned away from them, watching Ms. Carr point at something across the football field while I slipped around the school.

Everything felt wet, all sticky and cold, it made my nose get tingly. Slouching grass wiped across my jeans leaving these long, black wet trails. Whenever I breathed in all I smelt was dirt and worms, my fingers trembled on my camera, and I squirmed around in my sweater hating how it kept getting stuck to me.

Bringing my hood up I brushed all the damp hair off my face, tucking it back into my hood. I sounded like a frigging duck when I walked, the mud pulling my feet in. I ducked under this massive dipping branch to pause, zoom and, take a picture of a bird staring down at me from a tree.

Biting my lip, I hit the PLAY button on my camera to examine the shot. There was a teeny smudge of a raindrop on the lens, but it looked alright, I got the thing's beady eyes and slick blue-grey feathers. The tree was like, totally black in the picture with these flecks of green, the sky was the usual dreary, angry churning grey.

Pursing my lips, I questioned deleting it as I trudged through the trees, looking for something else that...I dunno, _caught my eye_. Stopping at this pretty looking bright green plant, I stooped down and played with the zoom again clenching my teeth until I took the shot. My jaw hurt, but I felt like a total dork trying to stretch it out again.

It was a nice picture, I thought, not that Ms. Carr was specific with what she wanted our photos to look like anyways. I caught a tiny raindrop hanging from the tip of a wide, bright green leaf.

But I got totally bored of the whole picture taking thing another ten minutes in, slugging around the school in a soaking wet, irritated trance, waiting for fourth period to be over.

Sitting on a stump, I slumped over myself, tucking my camera away in my pocket and swearing. What kind of an ISU is this, like she could've just made us write some dumb essay and be done with it. Isn't that what high school's about? Drama, parties, boyfriends, ridiculous amounts of homework and, awful teachers? Fun stuff like that.

Then there was that other thing, ya know, with everybody knowing. I dunno, can't be that big an issue..._what am I saying?_ Of course it's an issue! Like hello, Sawyer you idiot, remember the kid on the stretcher?

That woman came to mind, the one that had reached for him, crying and howling like her whole planet just whooshed away. But that's just it, isn't it? Her whole planet _did_ whoosh away, that could've been her kid under that big blanket, her nephew or, grandkid.

That in mind, how badly do I wanna be next? That's the big line right? That's the one I gatta cross to do this isn't it, I mean, they made it seem so easy – so _normal_. And Hristea's kinda, ya know, psychotic maybe. Just a bit.

So now what? Back to square one? Not like I don't like him after all...but there's that thing with the haemophilia. It's just so easy for him to do it, and I'm like a flipping never ending fountain when I cut myself. Glancing down at my wet hand, flipping it palm up to stare down at the scar that was there. If it was so simple then, why didn't he do it? Why patch up the whole mess when it's like an open buffet, _right there_?

All it would take is one itty bitty little boo-boo...

Feeling a tap on my shoulder, I whirled around, looking for Eliani and her dumb friends. Nobody was even there. Tilting my head back, a heavy drop of rain splattered down on my face. "Damn!" I growled, wiping it away and turning back.

With a scream, I fell back off the stump, landing totally wet heap in a sticky puddle of mud. Analeigh giggled and said, "I love doing that." She reached out for me and I slapped her hand away, crawling up to assess my ruined pants.

"Do you have any idea how much I want to kill you right now?" I hissed through my teeth, shaking my muddied hands off and hoping some got on her outfit.

Analeigh blushed, her topaz eyes getting all frantic and apologetic. "You're right, I'm so sorry Sawyer!" Now she looked like she was gonna cry. "I didn't thing you'd fall like that!" She was just getting on my nerves now so I waved her off, grumbling to myself and scraping at the gigantic black smear on my leg.

"It's just that..." Analeigh hesitated, pressing her lips together and chewing on her tongue or something. "I need your help." It seemed to me like she was only grazing the top of a big iceberg with that teeny four word sentence.

I cocked my head to the side, lifting an eyebrow at her. Analeigh curled a long dark red strand of her hair around her index finger, her expression worried and nervous. "What do you need?" I sighed, agitated because I was wet, annoyed because of how pretty she was, and downright pissed off that I was covered in mud.

Analeigh's eyes lit up, even though her expression didn't change. "Dorian and Hristea got into this huge argument – they won't listen to me and I'm scared someone's going to get hurt. I just need you to distract Hristea so I can _make_ Dorian pay attention to me." She growled out the last bit and I could see the glimmer off her fangs when she spoke.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Why? You don't think he can take him?" I glared at her, Analeigh panicked, her hands up in the air, her red eyes watering, voice shaking.

"He's _so mad_ this time! I'm afraid Dorian will actually do _it_ this time and-" I didn't let her finish, and her big doe eyes shot wide when I laughed. She gaped at me like I'd sprouted another head.

Shaking my head, I tried to stop laughing. "No, no. Um, I meant, that Hristea'd destroy Dorian – have you seen that guy when he's pissed off?"

Now Analeigh laughed, "Oh, I needed that." She gave me one of those crushing hugs, and I spat her hair out of my mouth wiggling around until she let me go. "Come on!"

Analeigh stopped between two narrow buildings. I waited for my head to be done spinning, then was frozen in place by frantic people. They were running and screaming and scrambling up from the ground, people were crying and ducking into doorways and carrying these big wooden things.

I couldn't figure out why, just that something really stunk like smoke, like the burnt toast Kellen makes. The whole thing made me cringe. Analeigh put her hand in front of me, pushing me back just as something big, ugly and black rolled across the pavement in a flourish of yelps.

It left behind a trail of black, like tire skid marks. Hristea flipped to his feet, shirtless, white-eyed and covered in nasty burns that made my stomach get all floppy. He looked so angry!

Baring his fangs, I was sure he didn't even notice us. A great big gash slashing through his left eyebrow down to his earlobe was healing – that's the coolest thing I've ever seen – it was like all the blood pouring down from it was suddenly surging up, back into his skin.

"_Take it back_!" He growled, it was a feral sound that made me jump. It didn't even sound like him! I could see all these things under his skin, like veins but not. They moved on their own accord, moving around over his temples, his arms, his chest. They were lumpy and showed dark against his pale skin. Not veins, vines.

I didn't see who said it, but I was clutching Analeigh's arm when I heard the voice. "Make me." They said, and I saw Hristea lean forward, but then he was gone like, totally gone!

There were a bunch of loud shrieks and then a bang that had me reeling around to catch my balance. "Wh-wh-what are they ev-even fighting ab-about?" I stammered, putting my hand on the side of a building to steady myself.

"I don't know!" Analeigh cried, "Dorian said something and Hristea just snapped." She looked at me hysterically, her red eyes and trembling shoulders made me press hard against the wall.

"Why don't you just break them up?" I asked, watching her hands for the gleaming red. It never came – not that I have any problems with that. Another bang made my heart leap up into my nose, and I coughed over myself.

She stomped her foot, "Don't you think I've tried that! They're stronger than me remember?" Yeah, good thinking. She can't handle them, what made her think I could?

Analeigh moved in front of me, snatching my arm and ripping me into the street. The both of us screaming when a body came flying through the brick wall to the right of us.

Dorian, hair in his face, clothes torn to shreds lay in a heap of bricks, neck twisted in the most disgusting way imaginable. I'm gonna throw up! Hand over my mouth, I turned away just after Hristea emerged from the rubble of the wall, a forked tongue swivling out to collect the blood falling from his bottom lip.

His big shoulders shuddered, Hristea lifting a hand to brush rubble from his chest. I didn't notice until it was too late, Analeigh crouched down by Dorian hands on his shoulder.

There was an awful popping noise and I felt my stomach heave, I choked but nothing came up. Bones snapped back into place, moving around in Dorian's neck, like they were looking for the spot they used to be in.

He sat up, groaning, hands under his jaw as he jerked his head to the side and rolled his shoulders. Dorian sighed, green eyes flaring red, fangs hanging over his bottom lip, Hristea's snarl made me stumble over myself.

"You cheat." Dorian mumbled, moving the rags of his shirt to watch a rib protruding from his torso, all blood and gore, slip back inside his pallid flesh like nothing happened. Hristea snorted. Dorian pushed himself from the mess, despite Analeigh's protesting and pushed her away. He waggled a finger at his brother and shook his head. "You're going to regret that, Hristea."

Hristea lifted his chin, all arrogance and scary muscle. "Apologize-" Just as Hristea got the word out Dorian laughed, his amusement fading his expression turning hostile as he shouted, "_No_!"

_Now, now, now, now! _A voice yelled in the back of my head, _you're not gonna get another chance!_

Moving between them, I felt my lungs start to crush my heart – I can't breathe! – no words came out and it felt like I was gonna pass out or something. Dorian looked at me carefully, I could see the disconcertion in his eyes for an instant and then he lifted his hand at me.

"I dare you." Hristea hissed behind me, but there was something in his voice that made this huge chill fall down my back so fast I could barely catch my breath. Doubt maybe? I hope not.

"Stop it Dorian, please." Analeigh's voice shook, making me think that me being all brave and helpful was really just stupid. Clenching my teeth, I stared at Dorian's palm, remembering what Hristea had said, "_Dorian is, himself, the very personification of fire, he creates it, manipulates it, rules it."_

I snorted, lifting my chin at him. I mean, what's he gonna do? Chuck a fireball at me? Like, c'mon this isn't frigging the _Fantastic Four. _He wouldn't do it.

Dorian's eyes burned bright red, flickering to Analeigh and back to where I stood. With a snarl Dorian dropped his arm, then I remembered I hadn't been breathing for the past, ya know, five minutes.

My mouth was so dry in hurt to inhale, I glared at Dorian as he passed us, ignoring every word that came out of Analeigh's mouth and going out of his way to bump shoulders with me. I winced – oh yeah, that's gonna be a bruise for sure.

Hristea's arm snapped out, hand landing on Dorian's shoulder. His brother glanced down at Hristea's bulky hand and lengthening nails when he said, "Get your hand off me."

Lips curling back when Hristea rumbled, "We're not done here." Dorian snapped his teeth in his brother's face, jerking his shoulder free and storming along, Analeigh in tow.

She looked over her shoulder at me as she passed us. I couldn't tell if she looked thankful or apologetic or both, so I just nodded at her until she'd disappeared around the corner of the building, following Dorian.

Turning on my heels, I looked up at Hristea, feeling annoyingly short all of a sudden. "Sup?" I asked, rocking back and forth on my feet. Hristea's white eyes narrowed, lips pressing together. I shook my head, "What were you fighting about?"

He made a face, eyebrows getting all knit together when he mumbled, "You should get home. They'll be worried about you." I rolled my eyes. Like I didn't know they'd be freaking out about me.

Hristea's whole expression lied. It's the first time I've ever seen his eyes and face being totally honest with each other. Putting my arm out, I stretched my hand out around his forearm. There was no way my fingers could fit all the way around it.

I could feel things moving beneath his skin, the vines were hard and lumpy and they responded to my touch. "I don't get you, it's like-" Hristea wouldn't let me finish.

"Not here." Breaking my grip he backed off from me.

I saw him flex, and it was like every muscle in his body went wild. Hristea's expression became hard, like stone and I hobbled back as fat vines broke out from between his knuckles. They climbed back over his hands, twisting up his arms and as they went up, they left thick black fur behind. His fingers convulsed into a mangled distortion of paws, he groaned, and I saw the wide smile of a wolf tear through.

Hristea lurched over, paws on the ground, I watched the disturbing bend of his spine like it was trying to come right out of his skin. Instead it crackled and stretched, rippling vines broke out from the flesh of his back, turning to a ruff. In an instant he stood in front of me, shaking out his new body and blinking round, white eyes at me.

He bit my sleeve, yanking my arm with a force that nearly made me fall. Drooly wolf teeth on my _Dolce & Gabbana_ sweater? Is he insane? I wanted to like, punch him! I could see the amusement in Hristea's eyes and knew he was killing himself laughing.

Someone shouted but I didn't hear what they said, the both of us stiffened. A woman stood at the opening of the alleyway, holding this bright, silver cross in her hand – it was huge! Hristea let go of my sleeve, glistening black lips curled up snapping his teeth together, his whole body was shaking.

The woman lifted the cross, calling over her shoulder and stepping towards us. She looked crazy, sweat doused her face, her brown eyes were wide and hectic. I actually thought she meant to kill somebody.

She took a fourth step towards us, then Hristea lunged. The woman wailed, the loud _clank clank_ _clank _of her cross falling on the pavement echoed in my ears. There were other voices now, louder, meaner coming to her bawling, to us.

Hristea padded back, pushing his big shoulders into my side, I didn't need to hear his voice to get the message, _move! _I started running feeling painfully like an idiot sprinting into tall grass and nothingness. Hristea's paws were on my heels, claws scraping on the backs of my shoes, pushing me forward.

And then, out of nowhere, he was on top of me. Spitting grass out of my mouth and pushing my hair out of my face, looking over I saw his paw, bigger than my fist, braced beside my head.

Wolves are heavy!

"I saw it, it went that way!"

It was hard to hear them over the rain.

"Tania you're certain it was a wolf, not a man?"

"For Christ's sake, it _jumped_ on me Matthau! It was a _wolf_!"

There was a long pause and I could hear some murmuring not too far away from us. Hristea lowered his head on top of mine, a great big black weight pushing me further into the grass.

I could feel his heart beat, thrumming away, on my back. My arms cramped, my legs were bent all awkward, it was hard to breathe. How long were those people gonna stand there for? Hristea shifted, taking his weight off of me, pressing an icy wet nose into the back of my neck. The jolt almost made me scream.

"It was Hristea then." The voice sounded firm and close. "It had to be."

"Was he alone?"

"Yes he-" The woman was cut off.

"Then the others can't be far behind, The Devil Himself was here with that woman again. The red haired one."

"Yes but they were fighting, if it truly was Hristea."

The woman swore, and there was a crack like someone was getting smacked or a tree branch snapped. Then there were footsteps. Hristea stiffened.

"_It was him_." She growled.

"That'll be all – out of the lot of you. Now, he couldn't have gotten far, let us hope he hasn't harmed that girl yet."

Hristea made this noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a chuckle.

There was the squish of boots and the raspy breaths of people running. I could see a little bit, what looked like a torch, but I couldn't be sure and then there was the gleam off a crucifix someone was carrying. From the sound of it, there could've been like, a dozen people rushing right by us.

After a minute Hristea stepped off, biting the hood of my sweater to pull me back. He looked like this huge sopping rat, with big round eyes and these longish ears.

I was covered in mud, soaked to my underwear and smelt like wet dog. Beauty. It was going to be a blast explaining this to Kristine, she was gonna be so pissed off at me. Hristea made a grunting noise through his teeth, clamping his teeth on my sleeve and hauling me up.

He raced me back to the Cohen household, leaving me at the front door and pelting into the shadows of rain and bushels along the side of the house. There was a truck outside that was so big I thought it'd eat me if I didn't walk fast.

When I came inside all I heard was laughter for the most part, which was odd to hear considering what my day had been constructed of.

When I walked into the kitchen, I found Kellen sitting on the counter, looking way too big to be sitting there. The next thing I saw was this scarily big dude with crazy red hair and extremely dark brown eyes. I flinched when he looked at me. Looked at me in a way that was creepily familiar...

His features were rough, but in a kind of attractive way, and his shoulders were big and square and reminded me of Hristea. He wore a turquoise shirt, that seemed to be in desperate need of ironing. His dark jeans had even darker stains in them, and were long and baggy.

Just the way he looked, the way he smiled so like, shy and quiet had me racking my brain for the one person I knew who smiled that awkwardly.

The girl beside him was the complete opposite. She was petite, gatta be like two heads if that, taller than me. Her almost shoulder-length red-brown hair was frizzy from the rain, and few curls stayed close to her heart shaped face.

She had dimples deep in her cheeks when she smiled, wide doe eyes that were the brightest dash of yellow that I'd ever seen. And I don't mean hazel – I mean like every hue of yellow that could possibly exist! It was hard not to stare.

She wore a green sweater that looked like it would fit the guy beside her, and these really cute jeans that had tears in the thighs. I wanted to ask where she got them but Kellen's voice stopped me before I could.

"Oh, Sawyer this is Felicia and James. James and Felicia, this is my cousin who could probably out drink all three of us." Kellen gave me this grin that was so much like Kristine's that it irritated me.

James reached out to shake my hand and I reluctantly returned the gesture, feeling the bumpy patches of calluses and shallow cuts. He squeezed my hand so gently that it made everything that I'd been thinking melt into pudding in the back of my head.

Kellen cleared his throat, while I made my way to the fridge, suddenly extremely uncomfortable. Then Kellen said, "You look like you just came from a mud wrestling match." When I glanced at him, his eyes were all wistful and junk, like he knew more about mud wrestling than I even wanted to know.

I shrugged, grabbing the milk carton, going over to the cabinets beside Kellen to dig around for some Honey Nut Cheerio's before pouring myself a heaping bowl of cereal. "Rough day." I mumbled, thinking of Dorian's mangled neck as I dunked a spoon into my bowl.

"Where's Gavril?" I asked around a mouthful, not caring what the new people thought. Kellen pursed his lips, really thinking hard about this question.

"He's upstairs studying with some girl-" Kellen snapped his fingers, trying to bring the memory back. Felicia laughed and said, "Camilla." She cocked an eyebrow at him and shook her head. Her voice was this kind of soft, musical sound that was almost as loud as it was quiet.

Kellen slapped the counter, "Yup! That's the one, Camilla Jove. Or was it _Cove_? Whatever. Leave him alone, he was a total d-bag when he came home."

I was glad that whatever Hristea and Dorian were all pissy about, were pissy about it far away from here. I mean, I'd never been in that area of town. Maybe the whole banging through buildings and setting things on fire, had missed here.

Eating my cereal and acting invisible in the kitchen while Kellen and his friends talked about nonsense. Then James said it, and I heard a voice shout "_eureka!"_ In the back of my head.

"I don't know." He shrugged a big shoulder. "She just showed up one night, weirdest thing that's ever happened to me, said she was okay and that she wanted me to meet someone named Maxine. I'm worried about her Kell, I knew that she'd been changed when we'd found out she'd gone missing. It's just that...she's my baby sister. I'm supposed to protect her from these kinds of things." His voice sounded so sad.

I choked on my cereal, hacking up a lung while I prayed milk wouldn't come out of my nose. Kellen laughed, completely unconcerned, he bounced off the counter and slapped my back – as if that would make anything better.

One last cough and I sucked in a heaping breath, slouching in my chair and glaring over my shoulder at Kellen. "You-you're...you're Analeigh's brother?" I asked. Figures. How did I not get that right at the pale face, brown eyes and meek little smile, that was all so Analeigh.

James nodded, bushy eyebrows coming together as he looked down at Felicia. "You, um, know her?" He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowed on me, waiting for an answer.

_Yeah, I know her. Her husband's a complete asshole, I want all her clothes, she's got the most adorable daughter I've ever seen – oh wait! Did I forget to mention she's a freakin vampire?_

Clearing my throat, I put my hair out of my face, clamped my teeth together and pushed all those words out of my head. "Yeah, uh, we...hung out before." I sounded uncomfortable. I felt uncomfortable. "I went to her, um, birthday party a while ago." The last bit sounded more like a question making me feel like a total moron.

James looked like he was slowly deciphering the meaning of life. His lips pressed together, eyes cast down at the kitchen tiles, shoulders pulled in. Then he sighed, shaking his head and pulling his fingers through his hair. "As long as she's all right." He mumbled to himself, Felicia put her hand in his and squeezed his big fingers. "I mean, if you see her again, mind telling her to...um, come home."

Something in his eyes made me squirm. Pain? Longing? No, neither of those. It was more like guilt, like somehow maybe, just maybe he'd slipped up somewhere. I looked away.

Kellen coughed loud enough to be a jerk, and caught James' attention. "We should go out tonight, ya know, paint the town red." Kellen glanced at Felicia. "I mean, it's not often you get a pretty girl to take pity on ya."

James made a face that was a cross between a rueful grin and a grimace. Then he nodded, looking at me with this kind of hope in his eyes I didn't want to read into. "Thanks Sawyer, it was nice meeting you."

Felicia nodded in my direction and waved, showing a big warm close-lipped smile before following James out of the kitchen. Kellen slid off the counter, not looking at me as he left.

A few minutes later the front door opened and closed.

I felt weird in the kitchen so I dumped my cereal down the sink, listening to the gurgle of clogged pipes before turning the faucet on. When the evidence had been washed away I went over to the fridge, trying not to think about what happened today with Principal Ven Gaudet or, Janelle or, Hristea and Dorian. Mostly I tried not to think of James because it put this weight on my shoulders, it was itchy and heavy. Like responsibility.

Responsibility.

I remembered the day I made Dr. Dawn crack when I thought of that word...

••

"If you were a responsible person Sawyer, you'd be able to take care of yourself instead of depending on everyone else." Dr. Dawn yelled at me, I smirked, what a great accomplishment. The glorified Doctor Jennifer Dawn, screaming at one of her patients. So much for that whole calm and cool reputation.

She thought that by having these pointless sessions with me, that somehow everything would get better. That maybe just talking instead of drowning me would finally get through this thick skull of mine. Yeah, okay.

"Please, Jenny, do we gatta go through this talk _every fucking time_?"

Dr. Dawn scowled, her tight lips starting to quiver. I couldn't take her serious when she busted a gasket, I mean, how could I? She looked like a frigging clown half the time, picture an angry clown – ha! What was she gonna do? Squirt water in my face with some stupid flower?

"Well, Sawyer, perhaps we wouldn't have to if you were actually making some progress, hmm." She shook her head, playing with the fat hunk of junk that was the tape recorder sitting between us. "I'm only trying to help you after all, and after weeks of discussion I've finally found out what your problem is."

I laughed, "What? I thought I was suicidal? Depressed? Fun stuff like that, now there's more? Damn, well why don't we just chalk me up to insane – now that'd be a party!"

I jerked against the duct tape fastening my wrists to the stiff metal char she made me sit in. I could feel the edges cutting into my skin, but it didn't hurt, no blood was getting to my hands anyways.

"Yes Sawyer," Dr. Dawn was struggling to keep her cool. She'd been trying to get me to admit I had an issue with responsibility for the past three hours. After the first like, ten seconds I'd already turned this whole thing into one giant game.

"Come now, don't you think it's time to stop pretending?" She murmured, trying to sound sweet and innocent on the tape. "Stop lying to yourself? After all, you have been putting all this pressure on your Father over the last three years, what with this rebellion. You're getting to the age where you're going to need to step up to the plate – take care of yourself. All this time, all these years, you've been relying on others to take care of you, and the extra baggage of your illness.

"I understand that you're a bit too young still to grasp that the weight you're putting on those around you, is hurting them. You don't want to be alone now do you? You want to let people in don't you? Then you have to do your part. Your Father loves you very much Sawyer, but you think he'll always take on _your_ problems, deal with the consequences of _your_ actions. He won't be around forever. You won't even take you own medicine. Do you think that somehow you'll be proving a point by doing all this? Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why you are the way you are? Why you harm those around you."

I held my jaw tight. She just wanted me to start chomping the bit for her. Well guess what Jenny – you're wrong!

Dr. Dawn sighed, then pulled out this big envelope, resting it on the table a moment before undoing the long red strings and pulling out a bunch of filmy papers. She set them down on the table, smoothing them out with her ugly wrinkled hands and horribly painted claws.

I gasped. Dr. Dawn grinned victoriously.

They were pictures of me. Pictures taken before all the drugs and alcohol and occasional grand theft auto. What? Did she think a few lousy photos would make me snap, make me have some kind of sudden realization? If this is her shock treatment she's gonna have to sell her next speech like it was going outa style.

There was one shot of me, I must've been like five, I looked five. I was holding onto a long silver bar and kissing my Mom on the cheek, when we were on the subway. Between us was her fat baby belly. Funny, I don't remember that day at all. I can't even remember the last time I hugged my Mom.

I don't do hugs. They bother me.

The one beside it, was a photo of me and Dad – I remembered this one no problem. We were at the fair, we'd just got off the bumper cars and I was holding this stick of cotton candy that was like, the size of my head. It was a few weeks after my eighth birthday. Dad had taken the picture, and we both had our eyes crossed and tongues sticking out the side of our mouths. I still had a gap in my teeth from the tooth I'd lost.

Clenching my teeth, I looked at the next picture, refusing to let Dr. Dawn get anywhere with this.

This next one was of me and Dad again. I was nine. I remembered that Mom didn't come to my dance recital because, she was having a girl's night out with Harlow's Mom and our neighbour Ms. Hopkins. But Dad came. He always came. My dance school won second place, and I'd cried all the way home because we didn't come in first. But in this picture, I had a great big grin slapped on from ear to ear because Dad had brought me orchids.

"Don't you miss it?" Dr. Dawn asked suddenly, she was trying not to look smug and I guessed that I probably had the most stupid, saddest pout on my face. I glared at her, stomping my feet on the white tiles and trying to tear my hands free.

"Weren't you happy?" She questioned, looking at me like she'd magically skipped the battle and decided that she won the war. I wasn't finished yet – not even close. "What happened to you Sawyer? You were such a sweet, smart little girl." She tapped my face with a pointy nail in the picture of me and Dad after my recital. "It seems, that right after this, you lost your way. Started lashing out violently at school, and I do believe there was one account where you shoplifted, am I right?"

"Wanna get to the point? I'm getting butt sores in this frigging chair." I snapped, bracing my back and trying to wriggle my arms out of the tape.

Dr. Dawn shook her head going on with her endless speech. What was she trying to do? Bore me to death? "Of course, those were miniscule things compared to what you've committed yourself to now isn't it? These days there's the drugs, the drinking, the arrests."

I snorted, "What can I say? I like to live on the edge, ya know, sometimes I even run downhill with scissors while it's raining. Other times I just like to lay down on highways – I'm trying to start a trend, Extreme Chicken." I cocked an eyebrow at her, "Think it'll catch on?"

"What about Harlow, Sawyer, it is Harlow right? She used to be a straight A student before she became friends with you, a 'goodie-goodie' you call them. Kids that do what there told. Would it be going too far to say that you've corrupted her? No, I don't think so." I froze up, searching for something in my head to throw her way. Dr. Dawn smiled widely.

"You've dumped a fair bit of responsibility on her haven't you? Lying to cover up for you, taking the blame for your misdeeds, making sure you're always safe-"

I didn't let Dr. Dawn finish and quickly said, "I've never made her do anything she didn't want to! I never asked her to do those things for me!" All this I said anxiously, to save my own ass, it all came out too fast. I knew I was scrambling. Dr. Dawn knew I was scrambling.

"No?" Dr. Dawn said, carefully gathering up her pictures. "It's time, I think, that you take responsibility for yourself. No one is going to take care of you here Sawyer, _no one_. You're finally going to have to fend for yourself, hmm." Dr. Dawn's chair scrapped back and she leaned over the table to get right in my face, clicking off the tape recorder when she whispered. "Where's Daddy now?"

Sucking on my tongue, breathing in deep, rounding my lips I spat in her face. Dr. Dawns chunky mascara fell down her face as she raised her hand to scrub her eye.

I kicked the small table in between us, not ready for her sudden retaliation. Head swinging to my right, I squeezed my eyes shut against the painful sting of a slap and a hard wedding ring.

I was falling, falling, falling. In those few seconds that I was between air and ground, my cheek didn't hurt, my wrists didn't hurt. And then I hit the ground, the chair made an awful _clap _onto the tiles and my head cracked against the floor.

Blonde hair in my face I heard Dr. Dawn shout. "Take her to Doctor Harbour now!"

••

Blinking, I turned the faucet off, watching a few droplets fall from the tap and plummet into the black of the drain below. Turning away from the sink, I reached over the counter to my row of bottles, glancing at the clock and struggling with the child lock on the lid. When it finally opened I stuck my fingers into the opening, trying to get a hold of one orange pill.

Angrily, I dumped them all out onto the counter, throwing the bottle across the room. I flinched when plastic collided with drywall, wondering for a second what Kristine would think when she came home to this mess. Since when did I care?

I plucked up two slippery orange capsules, staring at the shiny, lumpy scars on my wrists and shoving the pills into my mouth with a hard, dry swallow. They stuck to my throat, becoming sharp oval lumps caught inside me. I swallowed again.

Scaling the stairs, I stopped when I saw light pouring out from Gavril's room. The door was open. Weird. Gazing down the hall at the guest door I thought about just going back downstairs and watching TV or something.

"Nationalism: a feeling of deep loyalty to one's country; usually feel superior to others. So, um, Gavrilo Princip had such nationalism he was willing to resort to terrorism?"

It was a girl's voice. It wasn't as soft and smooth as Felicia's voice, and it shook like the girl was nervous or something, but it was a kind of pretty sound.

"Perfect." That was Gavril's voice, but something about it sounded...different. "Let's do battles now. Uh, what happened in Ypres, Belgium in 1915, April 22?"

The girl cleared her throat, then they both laughed. I shimmied closer to the door.

"Um, well, it was the first use of...uh, gas?" She sounded even more nervous now.

Gavril laughed, "Sort of. It was the first use of chlorine gas, you know, the stuff that burns your throat and lungs." I could just picture him with that I-know-more-than-you grin on his face. Loser.

"Wow! How can you remember all this I mean – whoops!" Something heavy fell, and I heard them both scrambling to get whatever it was, Gavril swore a few times.

Then it went totally quiet.

Eww! He'd better not be kissing her! Now I totally can't go past there, it'd be _so_ awkward! But standing her listening isn't any better besides–

"Omigod! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-" She was frantic, then Gavril laughed, a loud laugh that came all the way out into the hallway where I was.

"Camilla," He chuckled. "It's...it's not that big a deal."

No, I can't do it, I will not stand here and listen to them go back and forth like this! Ugh, I'm never going to be able to look at that kid again – eww!

Jumping into a run I sprinted down the hall, racing into my room and slamming the door.

"Maybe they didn't notice." I said to myself, scratching my neck. Why are my palms sweaty?

I yelped when someone knocked on the door.


	21. Chapter TwentyOne

Not a filler, just short and moderatelty important lol.

~Selene

* * *

Chapter 21

Rainbow hair.

Camilla Jove has rainbow hair. It's like, a rainbow got knocked up and gave birth to the mop on her head. That's gatta be it. I mean, you look at her and the first thing you think of is C_"Taste the Rainbow."_ Skittles probably took a picture of her head and boom-bam that's where the slogan came from.

She was talking to me. She'd been talking for like, half an hour and Gavril was in his room probably plotting his revenge and all I could to was stare at her.

She had this kind of heart-shaped face, and her features were like, nice and stuff, but I just gawked at the big mauve side bang swung across her forehead. My Father would kill me and dance on my grave if I ever came home like that.

But she was actually kinda pretty once I got past the art room throw up on her head. Camilla had these really smooth looking plump lips, like she was dedicated to Blistex. And then I got side tracked by the shimmery pink ring on the left side of her mouth, it irritated me because it made me think of Salem. Any other time and I would have thought it really suited her.

Camilla with her big, sad – slightly dopey – caramel brown eyes and thick eyeliner like mine, but with a more even, practiced hand. She had the definition of a ski-jump nose, but someway managed to make it work.

Her outfit reflected her hair, with the neon yellow pants and white-and-orange striped thermal, right down to her mismatch Hello Kitty socks. Her nail polish, which was green, was the only single solid colour on her besides her eyes.

When she tucked her choppy rainbow hair behind her ears I could slightly see some golden-brown roots. But I could also see the million piercings she had on both ears.

This was going to be a beautiful friendship.

"Were you kissing my rainbow-" I speedily righted myself at her confused expression "I mean, my cousin. Gavril. The weird one, with the shaggy hair, you could probably confuse him with a baby giraffe?"

Camilla giggled, her round cheeks turning read as she swung her head to the side to move her bangs. The action was so like Victoria that I almost couldn't stop myself from head-butting her. Almost.

"You're like, ten, what do you know about kissing?" She shook her head at me, looking all flustered and embarrassed. I laughed real hard, wanting to say _"Oh, honey, if you only knew who I'm dating," _But my lips wouldn't form the words.

"I'm fourteen actually." I snapped, not holding back the acid when I answered. "And I'm so un-square I can tell that was your first kiss."

Camilla's face went beat red, like her whole face. Wow. I wanted to take a picture, not often you see a hybrid tomato/rainbow. I could go in the books for discovering a new creature, make millions, live the high life, pay people to take on my responsibilities...

I winced, shaking the thought from my head, clinging onto my arrogance for as long as I could, when I looked back at Camilla. She was two years older than me – same age as Salem – but still a year younger than Gavril.

Still, that's not the point. What's with high school students here? I mean, back home there were girls in my grade that had, um, done The Deed. A foul taste filled my mouth and I grimaced, not wanting to put that thought in my head at least for another four years.

Here, I could beat up the Queen Bee and her drones, and out class at least one of the grade tens. I mean c'mon, let's get serious!

Camilla nodded, like Gavril had sonar hearing like his Mother and whispered, "Fair enough." Her accent was like everybody else's here, all rough and Transylvanian. Although, like Felicia, she made it seem so soft and innocent even though it was the exact opposite.

"Did that hurt?" I asked, tapping my lip, trying to distract myself from her hair. Camilla shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head slightly.

She buzzed her lips together then gave me a curious expression. "If you're fourteen, how on earth are you in the ninth grade?" She narrowed bright caramel eyes at me and I pursed my lips, wondering what she was really thinking.

"I dunno, they bumped me up a grade." I muttered, glad to be saved by a knock on my door. Camilla glanced over her shoulder as Gavril popped his shaggy head in. He glared at me making me curious about how long he'd been standing outside my door.

He cleared his throat, Adam's apple bouncing up. "We've got half a history text book to study Sawyer, so if you don't mind..." He trailed off, opening the door wide to lean against the frame.

Camilla smiled at me, hopping up from the edge of my bed and sauntering out into the hall. I cocked an eyebrow at Gavril, why did it seem like she was cheating on Analeigh to me? It's not like they were dating – in case that wasn't obvious – but still...Camilla just seemed like an _extra_ not an actual person. I know, I'm a jerk.

I sat on my bed for a few too-long minutes more, thinking to myself how big a traitor Gavril had become to me. I dunno, maybe it was just trying to picture that gangly weirdo with that colourful-headed girl. I mean it wasn't like he was out of her league, if anything it was the other way around, it just..._bothered_ me way down in my gut.

A scrape at my window made me jump – all I could think of was Dr. Dawn jerking back in her chair and smacking me. As I went over to my window and pulled the curtains open, I tried to think of a similar feeling. But I couldn't, my Father never hit me as a kid, I didn't even get spankings.

I fumbled with the lock, having to twist it to the right and jerk it out a few times before it finally opened. Moving back to make room, Hristea fell forward and onto the floor, he made such a loud thud I kinda freaked out hoping Gavril didn't hear it.

When he pushed himself up I gaped at all the burns on his chest. They were big and cross shaped, skin curled up around the edges in charcoal black smudges like some demonic boarder, inside I could see muscle tissue and blood, lots and lots of blood. It looked like they were gonna take forever to heal up.

Scrunching my nose and swallowing back a mouthful of bile, I blinked up at him. Hristea's eyes were dark, which was odd because of how vibrant they usually are. They were green still just not…normal.

The hairs on my neck started to get all prickly, standing up and stuff. Ya know that feeling, that feeling that the antelopes and like, zebras on National Geographic get? You obviously can't feel it, but you can see it on their faces. That kind of gripping panic?

Yeah, I bet that's how this felt.

I couldn't move, like every never in my body was like _"yeah, um, you should probably run"_ but I just couldn't do it. My toes curled, my heart kinda felt like it was gonna explode, my fingers twitched and that was it. No running for dear life. Or, ya know, even jogging – jogging probably would've been good too.

Hristea inhaled, I flinched at the sound. "Are you scared?" He didn't need to ask, just wanted me to admit it.

Like hell!

Clamping my teeth together I tilted my head at him, hair tickling my neck. Snorting and coughing out this mocking laugh I mumbled, "Yeah, kinda."

Hristea's lips parted to let loose a chuckle – probably the most normal thing about him right now. He nodded a fraction, the movement so like, slight I almost didn't see it. My fingers got all shaky when I put my hand out, touching the outside of one of the burns, away from the chard skin. I cringed, feeling my face get all scrunched up when I murmured, "Doesn't it hurt at all?"

Hristea laughed again, I tried not to shiver when his eyes swept over me. I was so focused on being perfectly still that I nearly didn't hear him when he mumbled, "Not when you touch it," in response.

I was about to say something extremely sarcastic, because that was super cheesy, then a voice in the back of my head shut me up before I could push the words out.

Shaking my head I said, "I think you need a shirt." Hristea's eyes watched me pace out of my room, that being his extent of following me. I slunk into Kellen's room, hearing the TV on downstairs and seeing Gavril's door closed I figured they'd given up on the whole studying thing. I slunk into Kellen's room – a forbidden zone – and walked to the closet, keeping my eyes firmly on the target.

It took a while of cautious digging around before I found a blue t-shirt that looked like it would fit. Irritating thing was, that it said "Bikini Inspector" across the back shoulders. That really pissed me off.

Gripping my stolen prize in my fist I ran out before I came across anything that'd probably scar me for the rest of my life. I closed the door, searching it to make sure I didn't leave any traces of me there, before heading back to my guest room.

Hristea was sitting on the floor, back pressed against the bed, an arm stretched out over his bent leg while his other hand prodded a wound close to his throat. I just wanted to get one big band aid slap it over his torso. I winced when I saw him, raking his nails over the gash on his left collar bone.

"Here." I handed him the shirt, flipping it inside out first. Hristea lifted an eyebrow at me, taking the thin fabric from my hands. I made a face as his already scabby skin started to crack and stretch while he pulled the shirt over his head. "Just don't like, _flex_." I added, catching his dull grin as I sat down in front of him.

Hristea stared at me with green eyes that seemed to be fading. He looked tired. Clenching my teeth, and screwing my mouth to the side I tried to avoid his gaze. Scratching my head, I pulled my hair back with my fingers, bringing it all over my shoulder. Hristea's eyes were firm on me when I grumbled, "Sabina and Sorina are...oracles?"

It sounded stupid. It was stupid. I mean, people that could ya know, control the elements, read minds – know the future? Like, wasn't being just a vampire good enough? Oh no! Of course not! Thinking about all of it in a whole...I dunno, what's it called? A nutshell? Yeah, the whole nutshell, it just made me feel crazy.

Hristea made this kind of face, for an instant I could see the mixed emotions in his eyes again. He looked down at the grown, thick eyelashes casting these long shadows down his cheeks. So what? This was on the Do Not Tell Sawyer list too? Great.

When he peered up at me, I hadn't been expecting the answer he gave me. "They're oracles," He nodded, "However their gifts are limited like mine. You know I can only take the form of people I've touched, for Sabina, she only has the ability to see bad things, tragic, _disturbing_ predictions. And Sorina only the good, happy, warm visions." He shook his hand, "Together, through contact they can focus their thoughts on a single prophecy showing both the good and bad."

I gaped at him, waiting for Hristea to laugh and say that it was all just a joke. He didn't. Which explained what had happened, when I saw myself die. So that's what was going to happen to me? Hristea was going to kill me?

Trying my hardest not to look extremely uncomfortable, Hristea kept his eyes on mine making it impossible to look away. I just sat there, feeling like a total moron, I'd basically just dug my own grave.

"I told you that I-" I didn't let Hristea finish, jumping on his sentence like his words would be the ones that would kill me if I didn't.

"Obviously you're wrong." I felt angry and like, betrayed kind of, my insides got all tight and knotted. It reminded me of my first dance recital when I'd gone out there on stage and totally choked. Someone actually _booed_ me. "Did you like, lie?" I pressed, pushing myself back on the carpet to put a bigger distance between us.

Twelve million different things flashed behind Hristea's eyes, twelve million different emotions and I only caught two. At first I thought he looked hurt – offended. And then, he looked irritated, royally pissed off.

"I never lied." He hissed, defensive broad shoulders twitching beneath Kellen's t-shirt. His expression wasn't one I could read and it annoyed me, what all had he been sitting on this whole time?

I shook my head, resting my elbow on my knee and dropping my forehead into my palm. "But you weren't honest with me either, were you?" Why'd I feel like such an idiot? Had I really not expected anything like this to happen? He's a _vampire_ – c'mon, there couldn't be a bigger red flag!

Hristea's eyes narrowed, fangs showing. "What do you want me to say?" He leaned closer to his knee and towards that thin little imaginary line, I relied on to keep us separated. I held my breath for all of two seconds, not liking how my stomach kept balling up and twisting out.

Slouching into myself, I examined the trail of blood that lead from my window to my closet. Emilia. I told Kristine I'd had a small nose bleed and that it wasn't anything crazy bad, I knew she didn't believe me, but she went along anyway.

Shrugging a shoulder and grinding my elbow into the hard bouncy muscle of my thigh I bit my lip. "Tell me everything you didn't before." I spoke through my teeth, not looking at him when he sighed.

When I finally looked at him Hristea lifted a brow at me, the question clear on his face. _What do you want to know?_ I pressed my lips together in a hard line that made my face feel tingly.

"In one of your memories." I started, trying to remember the exact one. "It just ended, went back to another place – like you didn't want me to see what happened next." Eyes tapered I watched him carefully, glancing between his mouth and his eyes, waiting for the proof of a lie to show.

Hristea exhaled heavily, "I...it's not often that I don't get my way. She refused to come with me and-" Hristea pinched the bridge of his nose. "-I got angry, said things I didn't mean – did things that I wish I hadn't. People...people got hurt."

That was it. I didn't want to know more than that. I stared at his face, the dark, weak shadow over his eyes, the firm hold of his full lips. He wasn't lying.

"Sabina and Sorina think I'm her – that I'm Quinzelle. Wouldn't I remember stuff like that? If I...was her reincarnation." The word tasted bad on my lips, like it didn't belong there. Hristea made this face that could have been a wince, like the idea sounded as painful as the memory did.

He shook his head, "I'm not sure. I want to think that it's just a coincidence, a random act of luck. The name, that's what makes it hard to believe even that. Sawyer Quinzelle Cohen. Quinzelle Hannah Archer." Hristea snapped his teeth together and I flinched. "Ironic."

I hadn't even thought of it before. My name too. She looked like me, had my name, my _everything_. But I wanted for it desperately to be just some fluke. Like the way two people had the same name, there was two girls at my dance school, both named Jessica. Why couldn't it be like that?

"What..." My voice seemed to have lost all its ya know, power, I guess. I had to clear my throat before I said anything else. "What, um, what _happened_ to her? She came here, didn't she?"

Now there was an honest look of grief on Hristea's face, one he didn't bother to hide, but he wouldn't look at me either. Then, firmly shaking his head he muttered, "No." Before I could do anything he was standing, pulling Kellen's shirt off. "That's too much."

Scurrying to my feet I bolted to get between him and my window, standing on my toes in an attempt to look big compared to him. Hristea's eyes, now devoid of emotion stuck on me in a way that made my heart slam against my ribs.

My fingers fumbled behind me, reaching for the lock on the window. It was hard to find. I had to move awkwardly to make it snap into place and Hristea just watched me, not talking, not moving.

"Tell me." I prompted, my voice shook, but I couldn't place why. It doesn't do that, ya know, the whole shaky voice thing is for pansies, girly babies that get all teary-eyed and goofy at stupid moments like these. "Please."

Hristea shook his head, I almost didn't catch the movement. His eyes started to show something, something fighting to get to the surface. I clenched my teeth, "Why not?"

It was so quiet for so long that I slid away from the window, entirely fed up. I lifted my arm, waving my hand at the pane. "Go on." I said it, not meaning it, and that was obvious.

He stared into the black void for so long, _so long_, I thought that he'd just stand there, all statue-ish. Until he'd leaned away from the window, hunched down and rested his face on my shoulder. _He's heavy_, I thought, then I was reminded how close his fangs were to my skin and wondered if this whole thing was a sham.

Hristea snorted, making me blush, because he could read my mind and that was, well, that was super embarrassing. That, and, I could feel his breath through my muddy sweater and realized just how thin the fabric really is.

It was quiet again, like he was waiting for me to say something, do something. I didn't know what he expected me to thing or do so I waited too. Waited for him to shift or like, ya know, hug me or something – I dunno.

"I killed her." Hristea said so lowly I almost didn't hear it until the words went off in my head like some annoying car alarm. _I killed her_. I staggered away from him, hearing this irritating, raspy inhale and dry, frantic exhale waiting for the noise to stop when I finally noticed it was me breathing like that. It hurt my chest but I couldn't stop.

I felt like I'd just done the Polar Plunge or something. My whole body was in shock. Hristea just watched my reaction, watched like there was nothing he could do or say to make anything change. Which was true, I just...really hoped that he'd come up with something that would make what he'd said more...fake.

"It was an accident." He murmured, it didn't help. I tried to stop breathing altogether, scared that my heart would just go _pow!_ and burst in my chest. I heard on some TV show that race horses' hearts burst all the time.

I shook my head and Hristea put his hands out like he was trying to open up for me. The idea was good, being against him and all, but there was the sense of a great big, massive chasm between us and there was no way for me to get across to those arms.

He pulled them back, like he knew it too. Hristea looked at me with something that was both agitation and fear in his eyes and it made me feel nauseous. Clamping my hand down on my dresser, I sucked a breath in, holding it inside my hysteric lungs for as long as I could.

"I told you I Engraved on someone." His green eyes found mine and held me there until I forced myself away. It felt like the space of my room wasn't enough to get away from him. But I didn't want it to be either.

"It was Quinzelle, but I was too young – I wasn't expecting it to be so overwhelming. Sentiments that The Undying don't practice often have varying effects on them." His voice was frenzied, still reaching across the invisible abyss set between us. "They had different effects on _me_, I don't experience emotion like Dorian and Emilia and because of it..." He looked at me carefully and for once I didn't see this huge destruction-hungry vampire.

I opened my mouth but I couldn't form a sentence, couldn't think of anything to say to him that might make this better. Hristea just shook his head knowingly, "_I didn't mean to_."

Four words. Four words and there was finally a bridge over the bottomless gorge.


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo

Hmmm...I have a sinking feeling I'm going to seriously get in trouble for this..

~Selene

* * *

Chapter 22

I was happy when the weekend came. The sun was finally out – as in visible! It was warm, but with the warm weather came actual chores. I was pissed off when Kristine made me garden, I mean, _me_ gardening? What are you on crack or something?

Then again, it was better than being inside with Gavril and Camilla. They bothered me still, seeing him with her, seeing his weird alignment of teeth when she laughed at one of his jokes. It made me sick to my stomach.

Hristea was...I'm not too sure actually. He'd gone after we'd talked and I hadn't seen him since, the reasons were loud and clear but...it was just weird not having him around. I tried not to think about Quinzelle. I tried so hard to keep her outa my waking thoughts that she showed up in one of my dreams.

I'd seen Analeigh around, never long enough to speak, she only showed up at school maybe twice in the week. And it was only after school to say something to Gavril, whatever they'd talked about last made him cranky 'cause he hadn't brought her up since.

I was sitting on the couch watching TV while Stellar sat beside me talking on the phone with Alexis and, Uncle Nick napped in the recliner when Kristine came down from upstairs. She wore a pair of loose track pants and a baggy t-shirt that clearly belonged to Kellen, what with the bikini babe on the front.

She pulled her hair up into a ponytail and looked at me with this huge grin. A grin that so openly said "doom" that I wanted to scream. "C'mere Sawyer, I need your help with dinner." She smiled, pacing back into the kitchen calling, "Not too long on the phone Stell," Over her shoulder.

Grumbling under my breath I picked myself up off the couch, slugging into the kitchen to hang a while in the doorway. Kristine leaned into the fridge, pulling out a variety of different vegetables, she pointed at me without ever glancing over to where I stood. "Wash and cut those will ya."

Rolling my eyes and stepping to the counter, I snapped off two stalks of celery and started to wash them. Kristine, not a foot away from me, was humming and reading the back label of some stringy looking pasta. Opening the drawer to my left I skimmed over the different kinds of knives until I found the one I was looking for. Then, resting the knife on the counter I started peeling an onion, angrily scraping my nails over the skin.

The sound of laughter made me growl. I felt Kristine's eyes on me for a minute and then they were gone, she was filling a pot with water as she asked, "What, don't you like her?"

Clenching my teeth, I put the onion by the celery and grabbed one of the long carrots near my elbow. Putting it under cold water and scrubbing I shrugged my shoulders. "She's...whatever." I narrowed my eyes at the dirt on the carrot, wondering if it and Gavril were related. "It feels like he's...cheating somehow."

Kristine belted out a pretty laugh, "On who? Rhona Mitra?" She laughed even more. Rhona Mitra? Oh, yeah! That vampire wannabe that Gavril's supposedly marrying – right!

"On Analeigh." I stated firmly, not realizing I'd done so until the words were out of my mouth and I couldn't swallow them back up. Kristine was very quiet, uncomfortably quiet while she set the pasta down, placing the pot on the stove.

She sighed, shook her head and stared into the pot for a few more seconds. "I wouldn't go that far." She murmured, "I think that," Kristine's voice dropped to a whisper. "If he'd been given the opportunity – been given a chance – things would have been different with Analeigh."

Kristine peered over at me, some kind of sadness in her eyes while she sprinkled some salt into the water. My opinion of Gavril and Camilla didn't change. Although the fact that Kristine said that things woulda been different if Gavril got the chance to change them, made me think Dorian was one of those really like, defensive boyfriends.

I started to chop up the celery and carrots, doing the onion last as fast as I could, squinting while my eyes burned. It was like, still in the kitchen for the longest while, the only noise coming in from the living room where the TV was on. If I listened carefully, I could hear Stellar making plans to go see some dumb movie that he wouldn't even end up watching.

The front door opened and closed with a bang and a loud, "Honey I'm home!" I heard Kellen's shoes smash against the back of the hall closet as he kicked them off.

He came into the kitchen, putting his hands in my hair and knotting it all up before I could stop him. He reached over me and snatched up a carrot, bringing his hand back just as I slammed the tip of my knife into the cutting board.

"Where have you been?" Aunt Kristine asked, a hand on her hip as she pushed back some loose hairs around her face. Kellen shrugged, walking towards the fridge to dig around for a good five minutes, opening the milk carton.

I went to tell him not to, but Kristine just waved her hand at me. Kellen spat the expired milk back into the carton, darting to the sink and putting his mouth under the faucet. Kristine laughed, "You asked for that, next time use a glass."

Grinning, I leaned against the counter, gagging when Kellen dumped the sour, lumpy milk down the sink. He grimaced, turning his head away to scowl at his mother. "That was just rude."

He shook his head, throwing out the carton, grabbing a cup from the cabinet above me before retreating to the fridge again and pouring a glass of orange juice.

Gurgling orange juice and swallowing with a weird face, Kellen's expression lit up when Stellar walked in. I saw him slide his foot out but I wasn't sure if Kristine did, Stellar gazed around me at the vegetables on the board, gasping when his next step had him face-planting.

Stellar swore, me and Kellen laughing as he pushed himself back up and shoved Kellen into the fridge. Kristine stabbed her finger at Kellen, "Leave him alone." She said sternly, smiling sympathetically at Stellar before turning back to the pot.

As soon as her back turned, Kellen slapped his hand over Stellar's mouth, wrapped an arm around his neck and dragged him out of the room, kicking. Kristine turned at the thud of a body being hauled upstairs and rolled her eyes.

I watched Kristine while she muttered under her breath and dumped half the package of pasta into the trembling pot. The water hissed and bubbled as she began to stir it, combing her hair back and leaning away from the steam. She glanced at me quickly, "Get a pan and sauté those."

Sick of the whole team work thing, I groaned loud enough for it to sound rude, before crouching to get a frying pan out of the cupboard below. Moving around a few more pots and this really big metal bowl with holes all in the bottom, I found the pans.

I grabbed the smallest of the three frying pans, closing the cupboard and standing up again. I dumped some oil in the bottom and set it on the stove beside the pot until it started to bubble, then added all the vegetables, moving them around with a spatula.

"Do you..." My voice vanished and it took me a minute to beef it up and talk again. "Do you think she made the, um, the right choice?" I didn't look at her when I spoke, focused on not getting any oil burns instead.

Kristine sighed, all heavy and tired. "I don't think any of us approve, but, if he is what makes her happy then who are we to object. Analeigh's never been a child, where she lived before she went _missing_-" Kristine eyed me sharply and I looked away "-was a place that forced her to grow up fast."

I watched the vegetables sizzle in the pan, pressing my lips together. "What do you mean?" Kristine stirred the pasta for a moment, taking out the big wooden spoon and dropping a firm lid on top of the pot. She didn't answer my question right away.

"Well, I went to university with her father, Stefan Andréa, and met Klarissa Loredana through a friend of mine." She paused to lift the lid on the pot to keep the water from bubbling over. I watched the steam curl up in these big, wavy ghost-like puffs and waft towards me.

"Anyways," Kristine cleared her throat. "They were together for maybe three years and when Klarissa got pregnant with James – who you met the other night – they got married. I think James was eleven and Analeigh was only three when he left them-"

Kristine got this focused look on her face and oddly enough it was kinda the same expression Gavril got when he was thinking really hard. "I think, if I can remember right, Stefan went to Canada with another woman and well – Klarissa was never the same. She um, blames Analeigh for him leaving for reason I don't quite understand. Things got...violent."

I tried to think of someone beating up on Analeigh. I don't get why, she's like so...what's the word? Uhh, ya know, _pudgy. _Not the kind of person I could see fighting like, at all.

There was a loud bang and someone screamed upstairs, I jumped but Kristine just shrugged it off like she didn't hear anything. I heard Uncle Nick in the living room snort awake and shout, "Boys! You'd better not be rough housing!"

It went quiet but not before there was an even heavier boom and a door slammed, through the mix I heard Gavril yell back, "We're not!" I rolled my eyes, yeah, that was sure convincing.

"Now," Kristine mumbled, taking the pan handle out of my hand and moving it to a burner that was off. She stared deep into the pot of pasta like she could make it burst with her mind. "Why all the questions?"

I snorted, "Just two." Kristine snatched the strainer out of the dry rack beside the sink. I watched her skilfully take the pot off the burner, lean over the stove and flick the stovetop off with her elbow, before dumping the pasta in into the strainer. Steam went everywhere.

Biting my lip, I grated my nails over the top of the counter, examining my chipped nail polish. "What if I went _missing_?" I said it under my breath hoping that, ya know, it'd just be for dramatic effect and Kristine wouldn't actually hear me over the hiss of pasta and steam.

Then I remembered. Sonar hearing like a fucking _bat_.

"Missing?" She glanced over her shoulder at me, looking a lot like Kellen with the way she stared at me, all cocky and challenging. "You'd just run off with Hristea and leave your Father with no one?"

Clenching my teeth I pulled my shoulders in so my hair would fall over my face, making this kind of barrier between us. I used to do this when Dad got all pissed at me and said he was _disappointed_ in me. Pursing my lips I didn't answer, sure I didn't think about it like that before, but still, did it really change my mind? I mean, Dad was without me now and he seemed to be just bitchin'.

Making my way for the stairs Kristine said over her shoulder, "Thanks for the help!" And I felt angry, stomping on the first step before jumping back and out of the way of what I thought was one of my cousins.

"Mom!" Stellar, the back of his shirt yanked over his head, howled. Kristine coughed to hide her laughter, setting down the pot and strainer to fix his shirt, then we both gasped.

First of all, he was wet. Second, Stellar was more of a brunet/red head now with all that blotchy auburn all over his head. Third of all, he had this really gross looking fat lip. I put a hand over my mouth to keep myself from making any kind of mean comment that would get me grounded even longer.

Kristine ran her fingers through Stellar's hair, gently pushing him aside and storming into the living room. "Nicholas come see what your sons did to Stellar."

Stellar scowled at me, but I was staring at his hair. He sighed, brown-green hazel eyes looking panicked. "Is it that bad?" The only way I could really describe Stellar's expression, would be to say that he looked very...defeated.

A million different responses flashed through my head in an instant. None of them nice. I shrugged, peeling my fingers away from my mouth to say, "Um, I've...well, I've seen worse." _Like, ya know, when my Dad accidently ran over that racoon – that was almost as bad._ I finished in my head.

The expression on Stellar's face made me wonder if he'd cry or something. It got worse as soon as Uncle Nick entered the room with a huge, "Oooh!" Kristine smacked his arm and Uncle Nick straightened up, cleared his throat and announced. "I'll, uh, ground them."

Kristine made a noise in the back of her throat, "That's a start." Was all she said before shoving him towards the stairs. Uncle Nick gave one last look over his shoulder at Stellar, trying not to smile as he headed up the stairs.

Shortly after Camilla came down into the kitchen, glancing between the three of us. She tried not to look like she was about to burst out in laughter, but it more or less made her look like a total moron instead. "I um, called my parents, they'll be here in a few minutes." She said softly. "I'm gonna wait outside."

In the silence of the kitchen I could hear Uncle Nick shouting upstairs. Something along the lines of: "...no phones...no late nights...no friends..." There was a long pause and then some laughter "...I mean it Gavril...Kellen grow up...grounded three months...apologize..."

I leaned hard on the counter, watching while Kellen, Gavril and Uncle Nick came back downstairs. Uncle Nick's whole face was red – my Dad never looked like that when he was mad.

Stellar looked at them and groaned, making a beeline for the living room. Gavril snorted shouting after him, "Razor blades and cyanide are in the DVD cupboard." Kellen burst out laughing.

"Fuck you!" It was muffled but the words were clear.

Uncle Nick slapped them both on the back of the head, reaching his arm out between them and curling his fingers at Kellen. "Keys."

"I'm twenty-five, you can't _ground_ me." Kellen grunted, arms over his chest, hazel eyes determined when he looked at his Dad. Uncle Nick's brows arched as he dropped his hand into Kellen's front pocket, snatching up the Jeep keys and twirling them around his index finger. "No? Last time I checked you were living under _my_ roof."

Then he turned his attention to Gavril. "I hope you don't have any big plans for the next _four_ months." He ignored their groaning and snapped, "Apologize to your brother."

As Gavril and Kellen slouched off into the living room, Uncle Nick and Kristine both peered over at me, standing in the corner. They both had this, like, exasperated expressions kind of. In the distance I could almost hear Gavril and Kellen talking to Stellar, who was definitely crying.

I clenched my teeth, "Home sweet home."

Dinner reached a whole new level of awkward as we all sat around the table, eating stir-fry in silence. Stellar wore this thick black tuque under a big hood that covered half his face. Nobody said anything to anybody, except for the occasional, "pass the..." I ate as fast as I could so I could get out.

It was a hard to go to sleep. Uncle Nick and Kristine went to bed super late, quietly arguing about Stellar and the boys. Nick said it wasn't a big deal, he could dye it black again. Kristine wanted him to properly discipline his children.

On Sunday I slept in 'till three in the afternoon, waking up halfway on the foot of the bad and halfway on the floor, with this irritating crick in my neck. There was this roaring noise outside, pulling myself up and under my window curtains, I could just see Kellen's back while he mowed the lawn.

Hugging my sheets around me I crawled across the floor and back into bed, dozing off again when this horrible pain slammed into my chest.

I was burning deep, deep inside me like this really, really bad frigging sun burn that went all the way through my body. I can't breathe! Trying to sit up, I screamed, falling off the side of my bed, and to the floor smacking my head off my side table and clutching the left side of my chest.

And then, numbness...

Everything was spinning. I hate dreams like this, ya know, when you wake up in some random place and it's just like..._blah_.

My head hurt, but how could I blame it, I mean, I smoked it off the side table pretty damn hard. Ugh. Where the hell am I? Trees...what is that – some kind of mushroom? Moss...more trees. Rolling over and sitting up straight I touched the place in my chest that had been burning. It stung when I put pressure on it.

Well Sawyer, you're not in Kansas anymore.

It smelt like leaves, brittle, dry, dead leaves. Everywhere. It smelt earthy and open and I knew I was in a forest, but _where_. Putting my hair out of my face and looking up, I could have sworn I'd seen Hristea. No, that can't be right.

It was hard to stand up, like my legs were all pins-and-needles. Staggering over myself I tried to walk towards where I thought he'd been standing. Pressing my hands on a tree trunk, sucking in a deep shaking breath, I ran my fingers over the bone deep claw marks in the bark. Okay, yeah, this is the part in the scary movie where you run the other direction.

"Sawyer."

Definitely Hristea.

I swore. "Stop it, you're freaking me out." There wasn't an answer, just a chuckle. Douche bag. There he was again! Tripping over my feet I raced towards him, only to stumble into a bushel, catching myself before I fell on a fat thistle bush.

"Missed me."

Ugh! If I get my hands on him I swear to God I'll–

"_Sawyer don't!" _I clapped my hands over my ears, my head hurts! So many voices! Why did I hear him everywhere? I'd thought he'd pulled enough sick jokes, this was going way too far. _"Don't listen to them!" _

Why is that voice different? Why is he so deep in my fucking head? This was a huge jump from just reading my thoughts, it was like he was right there talking to me – just not there.

"Are you coming?"

I screamed. "Shut up!" I needed to think, my own thoughts, not what was just there in my head. Hristea wants to play some stupid game – mess up my dreams, then fine! Two can play that game.

He flickered by again, this time I chased him. Hristea was fast, but he wasn't always totally invisible to me, sometimes he'd stop and glance over to me, with that stupid smirk.

It was hard trying to keep him in sight though, one second I could swear I was on his heels, the next he seem a mile ahead of me. My heart was racing. Man, if he stops I swear I'll tear him apart!

"_Sawyer stop!" _Hristea's voice in my head erupted, just as he jumped down a gorge not an inch from my foot. I had to grab on to a tree branch to stop myself from falling down the hill, it was far enough down that I'd probably...

That I'd probably break my legs. I'm not dreaming!

He paused, looking up at me with this kind of crazy sadistic grin that made my skin want to jump off. Not right – this isn't right. Okay, think, Sawyer. Relax.

"Come on." He said and kept running.

No. I shook my head. One, I can't remember how I got here. Two, it's sunny out. "Oh my God the heap!" That great big pile of dead, burnt skin that I'd held in Sabina and Sorina's vision or whatever. "Hristea!" I gasped, wherever the real one was something really bad was happening to him!

Sitting down I started to slide down the steep slope, turning on my side to gradually climb down. Standing up I sprinted forward, following the eerie voices echoing through the trees, watching for any kind of trick that I would normally miss.

"Almost there."

Clenching my teeth I stretched my strides, panting heavily while I concentrated on not falling, on not cutting myself. I needed to get to him before anything happened. Climbing over a dead tree, I stopped, trying to catch my breath for a few seconds slouching against a tall tree. Quickly I moved away from it, feelings something warm and sticky on my arm. Blood.

Bolting into a run again, I weaved through the endless bushels getting even more lost the more I went. I saw it, the great big ruin just ahead. It was really a large stack of old rocks, all pushed together to look like what used to be a building. Half the roof was caving – sunlight was getting in!

No. No, no, _no_! I hurried to the opening, seeing Hristea there, on the ground wrapped in these thick silvery chains. His eyes flickered down at me, though nothing else moved. I covered my mouth and nose, the smell of burning skin catching my nose and making me gag.

His whole body was black with burns, darker, deeper, scarier than the ones I'd seen a few days ago. Those were nothing compared to this. I crouched beside him, looking at the chains. He's like super strong, why not just break them?

"Because they are made from silver." It was a woman's voice and I spun round to see Sabina. She watched me, kneeling on the ground, "He cannot move so long as they are in place." She was smiling in such a twisted way it made me want to throw up.

She sighed, "I told you this would happen." Sabina shook her head, blonde hair dancing around her face. I grabbed hold of the start of the chain, yanking desperately. Sabina laughed, "You can't take those off, Sawyer, he's so weak he wouldn't be able to stop himself from attacking you."

Tilting my head back, I realized the sun'd been swallowed up by some clouds. I could take them off and he wouldn't burn! But I pushed myself to my feet, running at her, "You did this!" My fist collided with Sabina's face, my whole hand going numb while she snickered.

Her hands were on me before I could react, and I was cracking against the wall in the exact same second. My whole back hurt where I'd hit the corner, then my face when I hit the ground. Something snarled.

Sabina cooed, "Oooh! Perhaps you're not as weak as I'd thought." She dropped to one knee, a hand scooped behind his head. She tilted his head towards me, crumpled on the grass. I couldn't remember how to move my legs so I could sit up. "I don't know what I'll enjoy more, watching you burn, or watching you kill that poor little girl."

My head felt so light. I think my whole spine had scattered everywhere in my body that wasn't where it was supposed to be. Rolling onto my stomach, I waited for my vision to clear up and then I realized I was staring into something red and hot. My nose was bleeding. Great, anybody got a tissue?

Wiping at my face with the back of my hands, I stared at the sticky red between my fingers and all across my knuckles. Ugh, screw the tissue, I'm gonna need a towel.

Pushing myself up, I crawled dizzily towards Hristea's burnt and broken body, swinging my arm at Sabina and almost falling over. "Get away from him!" My voice got all weird and clogged and shaky. Sabina snorted, dropping Hristea's head to let it fall loudly back to the ground.

She stood up, crossing her arms over her chest and looming over us. "It's so pitiful, I actually feel sad for you." She shook her head, eyes scanning the two of us. I gripped the chains in my fingers, pulling with every ounce of strength I had, ripping the beginning of the first layer away from his body. Underneath the chains were gross, bloody, blackened wounds that went so deep I think I saw a bone.

It was a long, slow process before finally, I'd pulled all the chains away. Sabina had backed into the safety of the shadows, watching with wide black eyes.

Hristea gasped his fangs glistening, eyes finding mine, vibrant and white. "Get away." He coughed, "Get away!" I just shook my head, even if I could run away I wouldn't be able to get very far, bleeding the way I was.

"It's okay." I mumbled, ignoring the sound of Sabina's disturbing laugher. Hristea turned his head away from me, hissing into the darkness where she stood. I put my left wrist out, remembering what had happened in the vision. "I'm not gonna be able to get out of here anyways. No sense in letting it all go to waste, ya know."

There was something in Hristea's eyes I didn't exactly understand, but if I had to put a word to it, it would have to be like, frenzy. His nostrils flared, a large, crisp hand clamped down on my arm and I winced at the feel of his teeth breaking my skin.

Sabina was laughing so loudly the noise made me woozy. Then again, it might not have been her.

Ya know how like, people that are gonna die and stuff see their life go by all at once? They like, talk about how much they're gonna miss their friends and family and junk like that. Well, dying like this wasn't like that.

This felt like, really good.

And a weird sound jumped up in the back of my throat, not something I'd heard before. It just felt so awesome. I wonder if this is what those Hollywood make-out kisses are like, ya know, when the actors go all gung-ho in hardcore tonsil-hockey party.

I slouched over myself, feeling everything inside me going backwards real fast. Then I was cold, it started as a pinch on my fingertips, my toes and the tops of my ears. But it speedily turned into an icy feeling rushing through my veins and I was immediately brought back to The Bucket.

Shaking my head, I shoved the thought away, feeling myself shrink and shrink. Hristea rose up from the ground, jerking my wrist from his mouth. "I'm sorry." He rasped, "So very, very sorry Sawyer."

Rolling my eyes I muttered, "I'm tired." Hristea nodded closing his eyes and pressing me harder against him.

"Hey," I said, trying to remember what it felt like to move my fingers. I wanted that to be my last thought, Dad always said that when I was a baby the first thing I found were my fingers. "I just wanted to tell you...you're the peanut butter to my jelly." Hristea laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound, I kept going. "Ya know, I'd be the macaroni and you'd be the cheese."

I didn't feel him lifting me, but I was there, his lips slanted over mine. It wasn't one of those nice kisses, it kind of bruised my whole mouth – not that it really mattered now. I liked the feeling, the way his tongue tasted, not like my blood at all. Just Hristea.

"I love you." The words were on my mouth, but I didn't feel them. I blinked, once, twice. Then, never again.


	23. Chapter TwentyThree

Yes, I actually just did that :P but I'm sorry I made Sawyer's death so fast, I think I might try to add more detail to it now that I think about it...hmmm :)

PS. Hristea said "I love you" in the last chapter lol oh! And thank you guys so much for the reviews, I wanted to respond to all of them but I thought this would be better. And to a certain person who said the plot to my story was better than some of Twilight Saga's, I do very much love that whole series, but WOW thank you so much... you can't even understand how much you made my dream come true with that comment, even though I know I still have a long way to go to be that good. So, the ending of "In Black Blood," I am dedicating to you.

~Selene

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Chapter 23

It was raining. The repetitive sound of it on the stone outside made his ears hurt. Memories that did not belong to him ravaged his thoughts relentlessly, knowing not the boundaries of torture. Doctors. Always doctors. Fighting to breathe even as the air slipped out of reach. The hard press of cold, stilling all that lay beneath the skin. Drowning.

Hristea breathed in feverishly, shunning the recollections, the voices. Always _her_ voice. As if he held what he wanted so close it might as well have been a thousand miles in the distance.

His body ached. His bones felt as brittle as they were old. He could feel the tissues of his body straining to hold on to any blood that circulated beneath his flesh. His head throbbed. His throat set aflame. Hristea's fangs descended at the very thought of blood, the Hunger pulsed within every part of his being, demanding release.

"Hristea." His Mother's voice was as soft, as angelic as it was the day she found him. She swept her fingers over his hair, the feeling would have been so warm – so _safe_, if only he could feel it.

His ears honed in on the hum behind her breasts, the ever rapid song of her inhuman heart. His eyes sought her pulse, a motion beneath her skin so subtle no human could ever possibly detect it.

In the back of his mind, somewhere lost in the abstraction of his thoughts, he sensed his Father's presence. "You're hurting yourself." Ekaterina murmured with a sigh, "Hristea, you will need to feed sooner or later."

Octavianus was quiet, observant. His every instinct drove him to be disgusted by the weakness exuding from his son. It was natural, they were predators, it upset his balance being near this type of aura. He inhaled slowly, tasted the vulnerability on the air and felt the sudden prick of his fangs against his tongue.

It did not take the focus it took his children, or even Ekaterina to rein in his Hunger. He no longer felt the pressure of the sun weighing on his shoulders, consuming his strength. Octavianus was, in fact, a true immortal. It pained him now, more than was imaginable, to see son this way. Before, Hristea did not understand the idea of agony, could not grasp the concept of hurting because of loss.

Quinzelle. Dorian had provoked that memory. Octavianus swallowed a snarl, he would have to deal with his other son at a later time.

Hristea did not have the mind, nor the ability to truthfully care for someone the way a human man could. Quinzelle sparked something, evoked a new emotion – nothing that Hristea could comprehend as a boy, but enough to make a change.

Perhaps he had seen it wrong after all. Sawyer was the redemption Hristea so denied himself, Quinzelle was merely the starting line.

Hristea dropped deeper into the chair that had long since lost _her_ scent. "I want to be alone." His voice was small, a feeble sound that made him revolted by himself.

He moved from Ekaterina's hand, staring at the broken mirror across the room, pretending he did not see the shock and hurt he had brought to his Mother's eyes with such a simple action.

Ekaterina straightened, wordlessly retreating to the door where Octavianus remained utterly motionless. Hristea dug his nails into the arms of his chair, listening to the leather cry out as he did so. They left him there, beside himself, smothered by the reminiscence of a life that never belonged to him.

Never had he been so certain about death as he was now. Hristea considered the idea with what little of a sane brain he had, the thought of death, how it might feel to one that was already dead.

Perhaps he did not deserve even that retribution. He could escape from this endless void of hell, but where then would he go? There would be no other life, no other hell, no demonic flights of devils to wing him to his final resting place. He would not burn in the hell that humans so feared. He had no soul for the devil to corrupt and devour.

He pondered the idea of sunlight. The instantaneous sparkle and flash of flame that would claim his body and leave him to ash. He knew there would be brief peace in dying, but nothingness beyond that.

Then, of course, what did any one man know of the existence beyond death?

Although, there were things left unsaid, undone. Sabina's face slashed across his mind for a moment, he reflected upon the thought of her. How her hair felt between his fingers, he'd never felt something so soft. How her flesh tasted, bitter sweet and exotic but very, painfully familiar.

Her image made his skin crawl in ways he understood only as lust. She had been a pawn in an endless game of chess, never a knight nor a bishop. Just a piece he could sweep off the board or play – whichever satisfied his appetite.

He recalled how it had felt to tear her head from between her shoulders. The faint thud of her body falling in the grass, followed by the hushed murmur of her head landing beside it.

The memory made him furious. All he had wanted was to feel avenged, to feel the release he had imagined would come with revenge. There was nothing in killing her, nothing in leaving her decapitated body there to burn in the sunlight. He'd felt empty.

He remained empty.

_Her_ body had been light in his arms, just as it had been any other time he'd carried her. Save for her warmth that left his head reeling, the rush of her blood beneath her smooth skin, blood that was both delicious and diseased. He had taken pleasure in listening to her lurid, sarcastic thoughts and feeling the pace of her heart increasing when he pressed her against him.

Hristea didn't have to think hard to remember Sawyer, especially the way she tasted, the way her body reacted to his.

He had not returned her body to the home she had been residing in. He had become too large of a coward to ever face them again after what he had done.

He did not want to remember her at all, he wanted to bury her deep inside his thoughts and never, never resurrect her. Though the thought of forgetting her the way he had forgotten Quinzelle frightened him.

"I don't want to feel this way any longer." Hristea decided, gripping the arms of the chair. He closed his eyes, submitting to the rage, the Hunger, the _torment_ of it all.

Ripping the arms from the dark chair, he stood, holding it over his head and launching it at the stone wall with a wordless cry.


	24. Chapter TwentyFour

You guys! Can't you just trust me? lol ;) R&R pleaaase

~Selene

* * *

Chapter 24

Death followed in the days to come.

Hristea killed without mercy, discovering the path he had strayed from before. He killed for the sake of filling the new void that _her _absence left behind. He desecrated rules that had been held so sacredly to his Father, in the hopes that his brother would have him sentenced to death.

Dorian had given him nothing but a warning. Nothing but a slap on the hand. As if the dozens of murders had left no blemish on his rule as Dracula, it outraged Hristea.

During the night hours, he stood in the room she had slept in. He stared at her bed, the one place he longed to lay yet he did not dare disturb, for fear that her scent would fade.

Until it became unbearable. Until _she_ became unbearable.

He walked the streets, oblivious to where he was going although the path had already been set. He wandered the nights alone, refusing to go anyplace he could sense her dead and withering presence.

He had arrived at the fortress, returning to his room, when Analeigh found him. It was not the first time she had approached him, but she had never become violent.

It began with a shove, which he did not feel. She screamed words at him he did not hear, punching his chest, ripping at his clothes, her shouting echoed in the hallway.

He felt the sudden burn of her palms and closed his eyes. For one moment he had felt the looming shadow of death and welcomed it. Analeigh's claws broke his skin, but it was the sharp, searing pain of fire that he felt.

It was torn away so quickly, the disappointment driving him to open his eyes. Dorian pinned Analeigh's hands to his chest with his right arm, running his fingers through her hair with his left. He was saying something to her, but Hristea could not hear his brother speaking over Analeigh's sobs.

Hristea pushed through the doors of his room, closing and locking them behind him. Solitude. The word had more meaning to him now than being alone. Solitude, alone in an infinite and damned world, it had been so easy to isolate himself before, so meaningless. Now his world was dying, wanting – craving death.

He felt more in killing, was happy while killing. It was the way it had been before _her_. And still, it was not the same without her, having been with her changed everything but he did not want it. All Hristea desired was to be the way he had been before.

More than that, he wanted it all to end.

"I'm leaving." He told his Father, Mother, niece and siblings one evening. Dorian's eyes had narrowed, he knew his brother would not comply with this, and that Dorian now had the power to overrule his decision. Emilia and Analeigh had glanced at each other, worry in their gazes.

Ekaterina's thoughts reached out for him, begging him to stay. The way she clutched at Octavianus' arm, the panic in her oceanic eyes open for the world to see, made Hristea heavy.

He didn't want to look at Maxine, who had been sitting so perfectly stagnant in his brother's lap that she did not even look alive – even in the sense that she already was not. The way she sat there, long curls over her shoulders, the ruffling of her black skirts made his senses recoil.

Dorian remained motionless, seated in their Father's throne. Never had he seemed more demonic to Hristea as he had in the past few months. Staring into the space of the wall, agitated by the furious crackling of the fire roiling within the hearth, he wondered if Analeigh knew the truth of her daughter.

Where she had come from. Whose child she truly was.

Hristea did not envy his brother, did not want in the way he did. He cherished his niece – knew he would obliterate any being that threatened to harm her. Did even she know who her Father was?

These questions rose and fell within Hristea's mind, mangling with the assortment of horrific images and thoughts of blood and drowning. He did not speak them aloud, simply because he knew the answer and did not wish to mull the subject over further.

Maxine had been conceived and quickly forsaken by the one who she would need most in this life. Tore from the pointless shell of her mother, taught nothing during the time she aged. She had become enough of an issue in the small village she'd been savaging, that soon the Mantle would be forced to intervene and destroy her.

Ironic that, Dorian weed out her Father, brutally ravage him into a slow and painful demise and take his place. And now she was his, now she even had the ever luminescent glow of his eyes, the constant frustration in the tilt of her head that she did not even understand. She belonged to Dorian, it was as if she had been made specifically for him. She had always belonged to him.

These emotions agitated him. Emotions which he did not understand, did not feel. This was because of _her_. The thought made his head reel with a different mass of cluttered thoughts, the ache of loss that he did not completely feel because he did not know what it meant. The silent chaos made him sick, made him starve for the stillness of never thinking, of existence before her. Before she'd...

Something awful stirred within his chest, made the consistent drone of his heart stumble. The feeling almost brought Hristea to his knees, a month's worth of simple touch drowned out all other coherent thoughts. Fingers that were far too small, far too fragile wound tightly between his. A mouth that overwhelmed his own yet was so undeveloped he was afraid he'd bruise it. The soft press of a hand on his chest, numbing the throbbing mark of a crucifix.

These, seemingly meagre gestures warred with the images of razor blades and deafening screams, hastily asphyxiated by icy waters, endless amounts of pills, needles, the sudden tiring prick of anaesthetic.

Quinzelle's voice in his ear, an insufferably tenacious murmur. Her hands on his shoulders, the blood that raced within her veins that made his fangs stab into his lower lip, nails on his back that he did not feel, the sound of his own name.

The unforgettable noise that rose from the depths of Sawyer's chest when he bit into her wrist...

Hristea screamed inwardly, feeling the abrupt snap of his will. He tasted his blood on his tongue and swallowed greedily, carefully removing his teeth from his lower lip.

He wanted to die.

"No." Dorian's growl boomed across the room, Hristea flinched, taking the seconds he needed to accumulate some form of...sentence. "I forbid you to go anywhere outside the walls Transylvania."

Hristea snapped his teeth together, a menacing sound meant to engage battle. "Why, because you're disturbed and want to see me through this?" A million different words moved through Hristea's mind in an instant, he felt his body shifting automatically to these thoughts.

Dorian hissed, "Because _I am Dracula_, your request has been ignored." Dorian slammed his fist on the stone arm of his chair and Maxine squealed, darting out from his lap and into the awaiting arms of her mother. "You have to do what _I_ say!" His brother roared.

Hristea looked to his Father, knowing Octavianus would not say anything, but just the sheer hope that he could...

He waited, as Dorian's echo re-echoed in the large room. Octavianus blinked at him. Hristea clenched his teeth, "Tell me Dorian, then, what would you do if Analeigh-"

Dorian was out of the throne, fangs glinting, eyes blazing. "Don't you dare!" He snarled, Hristea caught the quarter-of-a-second shine of vulnerability in his brother's eyes at the scenario, but it was promptly replaced by rage. "This is _your fault_! _You_ killed her!"

Hristea crumbled, hands over his ears. No. No. No! He fought the memory, vaguely aware of his family orientating themselves around him frantically. Hristea dropped his fists on the floor, the ground below him trembling and cracking.

"Hristea." It was his Father's voice, his hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" He hissed, hysterically jerking from his Father's touch. He was enraged then, all sense of what was and what is fading as he glared up across the room at Dorian. "You can't stop me Dorian," He shook his head. "And you'll _never_ be my Dracula."

Hristea ran. He'd run before but not like this. He'd never tried to physically escape himself, it was strange. His body was in flight, though the world around him remained still, unmoving. His breaths came crisp, fluent, easy.

He ran and sensed Dorian behind him. Behind him. His body became defensive. Nothing chased a predator. His every instinct forced him onward, Hristea followed his impulses entrusting his body to do what it was supposed to.

Dorian was close.

They were miles now, miles away from their home. What did his brother intend to do? Haul him back by his scruff? Hristea growled, a rumbled so deep, so furious in his chest that it made the hair along his neck rise.

Dorian pursed him until they'd come far out of home, then a bit farther, then stopped. Hristea ran on for another eight miles, then he too stopped, his body relaxing again.

He savoured the tastes, scents, sights around him, for he would never return to this place.

Britain had become a place Hristea did not recall. There were new sights, so many lively people – so much blood – and scents that made his senses sway. Of course, he resided in a place, abandoned by life. It was a desolate area far in the countryside, a small house so dead not even the rats held interest.

Hristea sat in the isolation of new smells, different tastes, different people. Beneath it all he knew it was the same, and yet it wasn't. Of course people had advanced very far, but he had longed for the Old Country, that he had known no longer existed.

He was alone here, wallowing in his thoughts. He'd become a corpse, an unfeeling cage to a creature that starved for freedom. He looked through hollow holes that no longer saw, he had become a beast within himself – trapped there inside.

He longed to graze the surface, to drink in what was. He smothered those wishes until they were dead, until they'd become a futile mess which needed to be cut from his mind.

Hristea felt the brief life when he eased an unquenchable thirst, nursing it, but never satisfied. He found himself feeling nothing, not even in the presence of women. He tasted their flesh, felt their warmth, but there was no pleasure. Not an instant of joy in any part of this...game.

He felt it nearing an end. The final chapter. He wanted it to be finished, he was done drinking wine that had no taste, done eating food that did not fill him, done waiting for the feelings to _end_.

Hundreds. Thousands. Millions of times he asked himself why. Why did he break for _her_, why did he want now more than ever to be in _her_ arms? To feel her heart, to read her thoughts. Life had gone on before her, but it seemed there would be no going on without her.

Now that he had tasted, he wanted more. Now that he had taken all that he could, there was nothing.

Yes, the game did, indeed, need to end.

She found him there, waiting. Waiting for the final curtain. And when he looked upon her, he thought it to be a dream...


	25. Chapter TwentyFive

Heeere we go guys! THIS IS IT! ...well, unless you want another chapter, then I guess I could :P Review it up peoples!

~Selene

* * *

Chapter 25

Sorina looked at him with pity in her eyes.

He had prayed that she had come to kill him, to avenge her sister, he would let her. However, he had been wrong entirely, she stood for the longest while laughing in the doorway.

Had he not already given up, Hristea knew he would have murdered her the second he felt her presence. Sorina crossed the distance between them, her fiery hair like a long drape spread about her shoulders, her slender form perfect in every way, and when she kissed him he reciprocated.

He had pondered the rivalry between the sisters for the longest time, then grew bored of it and accepted it for what it was. Lust. They were a trio of it. Now he understood it as a whole, Sorina did not come seeking retaliation, she had come because the only two competitors that she had had both been messily swept from the chess board.

She pressed herself against him, it was a very familiar feeling. There was no human in her, no heat, no blood, no sweet scent. She was dead. Hristea knew this even as her lithe fingers undid the buttons of his shirt, tore at the zipper of his pants.

Sorina's teeth broke the skin of his shoulder and Hristea groaned, there was nothing there, he kept waiting for something – anything. It frustrated him that she was not enough. His body followed her eagerly, but his mind continued to stay the same, resisting the incredible pressure Sorina put on him.

Hristea punched the wall, barely aware that his fist had gone through. She cried his name, while he crushed her between himself and the house, ignoring the sound of the old wall's protesting. And then...he was almost–

"Sawyer!"

Hristea didn't recognize the voice as his own, and still knew that somewhere, deep within his mind he hadn't seen Sorina at all. He knew when she shoved him away, snarling, running off in rapid Italian – utterly furious – that he had called the wrong name.

He couldn't help but crack a smile, it seemed uncomfortable and clumsy on his face. He hadn't smiled in a long time. Hristea considered telling Sorina that half the time he couldn't remember her name anyways, but decided against it.

She slapped him out of fury, ignorant of the fact he hadn't felt the impact.

He watched her storm out on him, unable to restrain his laughter. She had come all this way, come such a distance to fail miserably in whatever she had been so confident she would achieve. Had Sorina expected anything more?

Hristea's ego swelled and for a moment – if only a moment – he began to feel something like himself again. He considered Sorina, wondered why he couldn't want for her in the way he couldn't completely grasp. The way he had desired Sawyer.

She was beautiful. Then of course, wasn't _every_ Undying beautiful? After all they did not possess all the blemishes that came with being human. Nor did they share the same weaknesses and he had never been plagued by an illness.

If Sorina had not been so conceited, so disturbingly captured by herself, Hristea imagined that any man would enjoy having her by his side. If that thought in itself had not so appalled him he may have actually thought it true.

Hristea sunk into his coffin, one unlike his own in Transylvania, this had been taken from the local cemetery. Hristea believed it to be no longer essential to the one who had previously occupied it.

The velvet lined coffin was snug around his shoulders, the matured fabric smelled of earth and time. His age lived within the walls of this dark wood coffin, Hristea could smell the horses, hear the rumble of steady wheels on cobble stones. He tasted the rain from a different era, heard the echoing screech of his adolescence.

Here he waited for dawn. The night called his name, beckoning him to the shadow. Hristea was restless, his body becoming a husk inside which he thrashed. Night heightened his senses, allowed them to unfurl completely.

He listened to the drone of voices, laughter, the pound of blood and the drum of hearts. Hristea felt his fangs lengthen, his Hunger rise to curl fiendishly in the back of his throat. His body shuddered with the want for it as he inhaled, so slow and so soft, yet he could practically taste the warm scent of humanity.

He grew tired as night faded and morning threatened to conquer the sky. He rose from his coffin, ears twitching to focus in on the sound of birds, the quiet hum of cars and the rumble of sleeping humans.

Lifting the lid, he gazed around the crowded space of the house he had been residing in. It smelt of him, of death, it was a scent so subtle and old that no human could distinguish it from the smell of the decaying house.

It was dark here. The floor was forever dusted by a pale filth – except in the placed where he paced, there you could see his footsteps. The wooden boards bent under his weight but did not breathe a sound. The walls slouched inward, tired of bearing the weight of the caving roof, cobwebs draped from corner to corner.

Hristea circled the room once. He had despised staying in this place, wasting away around him as it was. He could still hear the scurry of rats in the walls and clenched his teeth.

Pulling his shirt off he paced outside, he stood there, unmoving in the doorway. The colour of the sky hurt his eyes and he had to squint until they were able to adjust. Bright purples splattered against pale blues and vibrant oranges. A sea of endless colour.

Hristea tasted the shroud of dew on the air, it hung from the trees and leaned upon the blades of grass. Fog moved about the ground, cloaking the buildings and trees and houses far in the distance. And there, on the horizon, a sliver of burning red.

Hristea had to hold the doorframe to keep his body in place, every part of his being shrieking for him to run. He felt his skin tighten with a layer of goose bumps and the hairs over his body stand on end. Hristea sunk his nails into the crumbling wood, sucking in a deep shaking breath.

The muscles of his legs went into spasms, before he could stop himself he had taken a step back inside – back where he was safe. He clenched his teeth, growling low and hard as he fought his instincts in order to step back into the light.

His arms trembled, fingers twitching. It took every ounce of his strength to hold himself still. It hurt. His whole body convulsed and it _hurt_, he felt the ripple of vines beneath his flesh, thorns scraping on the underside of his skin, they pushed and pushed until they were free.

The sharp thuds made him flinch, thick vines digging into the doorframe, forcing his body to stay there. Hristea's fangs stabbed into the soft skin of his mouth while his knees buckled, he was panting by the time the sun gradually began to rise into full view.

He saw the abrupt sparkle spread from arm to arm then fully down his chest. It was a gleam that made him wince, like light reflecting of a million of diamonds. Closing his eyes Hristea gasped, his flesh burning.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Small arms wrapped around his waist. Warm, soft _human_ arms. Fluttering his eyes open, Hristea peered down at the glowing being before him, then at the large white wings she wrapped around him.

The burn of the sun was gone although the fleeting heat that the nimbus had swathed him in lingered. He gaped down at the girl, hair piled over her shoulders, halfway down her torso. She gazed back up at him with vivid blue eyes but before he could even muster a sentence she was shouting.

"I can't believe you killed me!" She punched him, knuckles cracking against the bare marble of his chest. Hristea staggered back from the sudden eruption of warmth that came with her touch, he stared at her wordlessly.

"I bet Kristine is going ape shit 'cause I haven't been there for like three million years." She threw her hands up, "Why? Oh no reason I've just been, ya know – dead!"

The red sweat pants she wore, the clingy purple camisole. Sawyer. She wore the same clothes she had when he had seen her last. Hristea watched her stomp back and forth, distantly he heard her voice echoing in the house, then everything fell away.

He gawked at the markings along her arms, the violent black vines that twisted out from under the low neck of her shirt, climbing up to her jaw. They ran down her both of elbows in a wicked array, right down to the inside of her palms. On the right side of her chest lay a large black paw mark.

Hristea's mark.

His hands moved frantically, until they found the edge of his coffin, and he struggled to take his first inhale. Her skin, the colour of snow, perfection upon perfection. God, she was beautiful.

Hristea couldn't take his eyes off her wings, large wrapped in a sheath of pure white feathers. Hristea thought of his sister, of jagged, horrific looking bat wings.

While she bombed around the tight room, Hristea tried to make sense of what he was currently feeling. Something light, but evidently there formed within his chest and made it near impossible for him to breathe.

He recoiled when Sawyer's voice assaulted him once again. "...And these things?" She hissed spreading her arms out to indicate her wings. "Don't get me started on these things – you try walking through a door with these! And when I gatta like, pull them back in? _Ow_! You don't even want to know how that feels!"

She stopped breathing out heavily and dropped her fists on her hips. "Omigod – I finally figured out how to get out of that place, and you're just gonna like, stand there?" Her blue eyes bulged, she shook her head, the halo of her blonde hair swaying while a smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.

He couldn't move. At long last, his thoughts and memories began to come apart. He could breathe again. In one fluent exhale he fell to the floor, leaning his head against the coffin. Gasping. His lungs throbbed, his head reeled. It felt as if he had never breathed before.

Sawyer hugged herself, making this horribly pained expression, lurching over. Hristea watched as her wings spread to their full span, slowly drawing back into her flesh, Sawyer made a sound that could have been a sharp sob.

Then they were gone, she stood up straight again, her face red. Sawyer snorted, coming over to join him where he sat. Hristea's body withdrew from the warmth she radiated, though he himself only wanted to melt into it.

The muscles in Sawyer's jaw flexed, the only indication she was clenching her teeth. It was so slight, Hristea wanted to believe himself to be the only one who could catch the movement. Her nose wrinkled just as she leaned into his bent leg, leaning her head against his knee. Hristea counted the fine hairs that fell over her right eye, it was difficult for him to focus.

She buzzed her lips together, "You're not going to say anything are you?" He watched her lips press together, the elegant curl at the corners of her mouth, the delicate curve of her bottom lip to the thin, smooth line of her upper. She was so real, so incredibly _alive_.

"Say _something_." She said through her teeth, one of her small hands landing on his chest. Hristea grimaced, positioning himself away from her.

Sawyer acted like she didn't notice. "Fine!" She swept away dramatically, "You're being a douche bag and I'm leaving again – alive this time." She swore suddenly, speaking through her teeth, "Now I gatta figure out how the hell I'm gonna get back up there. That's not fun, ya know, the whole thinking thing."

He'd never felt so slow before, so goddamn slow, it was the first time the planet surrounding him spun faster than he could take a step. The floor slipped out from beneath him, Hristea scarcely managed to wrap his arms around her before he collapsed into the black void along with the floor.

Sawyer went utterly limp in his grasp, a doll in contrast to the warm, vibrant light she had been seconds before. Hristea closed his fingers on a golden ray of radiance, one he had never imagined he could capture before.

Hristea crushed him to her, enveloping her in his arms, keeping her so close she could feel the thrum of his heart skip, then slow to match the pace of hers.

She coughed, nails biting into his flesh, a force he felt in earnest and groaned into the soft, pale skin of her neck. "Down boy!" Sawyer choked, "I-I'm an angel not a fucking teddy bear – _I can't breathe_!"

He held her there for a moment longer. If she faded now, he thought he'd die from the sheer pain of her absence – he would not have to exert any effort this time. Hristea was certain, that if she vanished now, now between the bands of his arms and the stone of his chest, she would take every ounce of his being with her. Every reason for living, more now than before.

When he dropped her, she whirled round to face him. She slapped him, Hristea was astounded at the brunt, he'd never been struck by a human and felt it. He shunned the emotion that rose up within him, a nameless emotion which he hadn't any time for now.

"That was for biting me not that I didn't, ya know, like it – that was a pretty sick way to go out." Sawyer pursed her lips, blue eyes narrowed while she spoke. Hristea wasn't listening to a word that fell from her mouth, merely watching the lips that formed them.

Sawyer's fist sailed into his jaw, there wasn't any pain, however the fact that she was having any form of impression on him was enough. Hristea's fangs made their descent, his body reacting to hers.

"And that?" Sawyer snapped, "Was because you didn't kiss me before. What? You think I came all the freakin' way down here to sit down, talk about the weather, drink some tea? Ugh!"

Annoyance unravelled itself in the depths of his stomach, spreading to his every dead and rotting organ. Hristea clapped his hand over her mouth, chuckling when he said, "You? An angel?" His words were laced with mockery as he shook his head at her.

In truth, the sound of his own voice frightened him in this instant. It was a sound that seemed to have evaded him in the month that had passed. He held this new feeling of fright in contempt, deep inside the heart of his being.

Sawyer's eyes ignited, she pried at his hand the words she shouted stifled by his large palm. For an instant, Hristea's eyes centered only on the pulse resting below her jaw, at the smooth vein that showed there.

He shivered.

Removing his hand, finger by finger he held her jaw between his index finger and thumb, turning her head this way and that. His mind touched hers for a moment, reading all that passed through her.

Hristea inclined towards her, Sawyer's eyelids fluttering down as she moulded herself to him. Hristea paused, eyes chasing the beauty across her features. Sawyer appeared small in his hands, an infant now more innocent than she'd ever been.

He clenched his teeth. He would ruin her if he kept her, and not even he could be so selfish as to rip her from the arms of normalcy again. Humans lived, then they died.

Quinzelle had barely lived and he had killed her.

Sawyer, still far from living anything, he had murdered her to save himself. She had returned so he could kill her again. So he could destroy her again.

Hristea could not pretend the way Dorian did. He could not give her eternity in exchange for so much, then swaddle it in an envelope of lies, sex, extravagant gifts. Hristea would not _make_ children for Sawyer.

"What?" Sawyer opened her eyes, driving him even further away. Hristea placed a wall between their bodies, a barrier she could not cross. She blinked at him, waiting, wanting. "What?" She repeated, gleaming blue eyes shimmering with a hurt she smothered with a gloss of fury.

Hristea held his arms at his sides, then having to cross them over his chest to restrain himself. His eyes avoided hers his voice empty, precise when he murmured, "Go back."

Confusion then outrage lined Sawyer's features. "But I...I just – I gave up _everything_ for you." She spat the words at him, stomping her foot. "I can't just go back."

Hristea's body stiffened as the floor threatened to fall out from beneath him. He winced, unsure if he was angry or upset – everything inside him told him something very different.

His instinct was to scare her, force her away from him because that was what his was, what he did. He was a monster. And yet, the tactical way to go about this was to leave her, she could not follow where he went if he went outside and burned to death. Neither of these plans agreed with the ache in his chest, an ache that made it difficult to think or breathe.

"I know but-" She didn't let him finish.

"No, Hristea, you don't know!" Sawyer shouted, the house becoming tighter. Her voice trembled, she began to struggle with her choice of words as an extremely frightening, extremely new person began to make themselves known. "They're not just going to let me in again, this wasn't just some choice I could make and then waltz right the fuck back if it didn't work out. I-"

What was that? What was she doing? It made his head spin, his whole upper body erupting in a series of unstoppable torture. Sawyer inhaled, even that was staggered, her bottom lip quivering.

Then came this awful noise, this abrupt hiccup that had Hristea trembling.

Wrath gleamed in her brilliant blue eyes, then as quickly as she had blinked something else showed. "Don't do that." Hristea hissed, clutching at his chest. "Sawyer, _stop it_!"

"What?" She screamed, her tone shattering an octave, the shrill noise stabbing into his ears. "Cry? My bad, that's k-k-kind of what people do when they're, ya know, up-upset."

Crying. This was bad. Crying represented pain, anguish, rage. Human's who became unstable with their emotions cried. Why did it hurt him so badly? As far as Hristea knew, he had cried once and only once in his existence. Seeing Sawyer do it now seemed so much worse than that.

A million images flashed behind his eyes. Dorian cradling Analeigh when she cried. His father holding Emilia while she wept over their brother's absence. Sawyer as a young girl, a man, unfamiliar to Hristea, running his fingers through her hair and pressing his lips to her forehead.

Hristea approached her with open arms, Sawyer laughed sardonically at him as she backed away. She shook her head, blonde tresses scattering about her slim shoulders. "Don't touch me." Hristea took another step, reaching her before she could retreat again.

Sawyer screamed into his chest, crying out a chain of profanities as she pushed him away again and again. Hristea hesitated at the sight of her wings, she could launch him through the wall if she wanted to using those.

Holding his breath he encroached her again, a hand out stretched as long, bloodied vine pushing out from his wrist. Sawyer sniffled, eyeing the vine as it turned to a stem, ceasing to grow from his flesh. Hristea held the orchid in his hand, offering it hopefully.

His fangs fell over his bottom lip, while her fingers closed around the smooth stem, pulling the flower from his hand. "That was really gross." Sawyer breathed, Hristea blowing out a weighty breath when she rushed to his awaiting arm.

Hristea watched the wound in his flesh mend with ease. "I just..." He couldn't finish his sentence, secreting his face in the silken cloud of her hair. He wound his arms securely around her waist, Sawyer's hands held between their chests.

Coiling his fingers in the soft, baby curls that hung around the back of her neck, he tilted her head back. "I missed you." The words were spoken against her lips before he slanted his mouth over hers.

Sawyer sighed, sinking into him. This kiss was different, Hristea held nothing back, receiving that unforgettable whisper of a moan in the back of Sawyer's throat. And as she tried to tie her arms around his neck, Hristea realized that he would never have to kiss her good bye again.


	26. Chapter TwentySix

Okay I know, why the hell did I take so damn long? Well, I just wanted to make sure I did the final chapter justice. I kinda fell in love with Hristea while I was writing this. Lol I know that sounds silly. Anyways, I seriously have an honest excuse this time, I'm kinda addicted to the new Final Fantasy 13 it's frigging AWESOME! Well, ya know, if you like being frustrated to the point you wanna pull your hair out that is :P Anyways here's the chapter, I'm sorry it's so long, and if it's a bit confusing I apologize for that too. It alternates between Hristea's POV and Sawyer's mostly Sawyer's and I put dividers in so it would be better understood. But I'll clear up any questions if there is any :)

enjoy!

~selene

* * *

Chapter 26

For the next four weeks I sat answering a bunch of questions, ya know, whatever came to Octavianus' mind at the time. Our conversations now always started and ended with God.

Here's the thing, I didn't remember any of that, the whole divine gates and blah, blah, blah God welcoming me into whatever place. Nope, that never happened. Really, I'd just woken up in this completely white area, nobody told me anything – where I was or what had happened, how I'd got here. I just kinda...showed up.

The cool thing was, whatever I thought of came true. I want a Big Mac boom-bam there's a Big Mac. It took a lot of focus at first, trying to settle on one thing I wanted and then making it manifest around me. It made me real sleepy afterwards, depending on the size or number.

I imagined my house, back home. Then the smell of breakfast wafting upstairs from the kitchen, I could go down there, create whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. But I couldn't imagine people, not Dad or Harlow or, Hristea. Especially not Hristea. Vampires were a strict hell no in heaven.

You'd think being able to come up with everything and anything you desired would be pretty sick, right? Well, you're wrong. After a while nothing seems to be good enough for you. And since it's like, your own personal haven no one else can come in and join you.

The more I practiced though, the more I tried to make my friends or my Dad, I started to make people. They never had faces, they never spoke to me, but the fact that they were there was enough.

I thought that would make me happy, that everything that I needed was there. I mean, sooner or later, somebody else is gonna die and then they can just come up and party with me. That's what I told myself anyways.

Then I just got angry and started thinking up razor blades and other pointy objects. I slit open my scars a few times, thinking I'd bleed out and God or whoever would get annoyed and just send me back. Nope.

I cut myself alright, I mean my wrists, ankles, arms, neck and it never worked. I'd bleed but not blood. Human blood is red, angel blood is all pearly white and shimmery and _heals_ things! Do you have any idea how frustrating that is? Hurting yourself only to have your blood fix up the wound!

I got over the whole perfect world, the whole imagination thing. What I wanted couldn't die – he literally _could not_ die. Even if he did, I had this sinking notion that Hristea wouldn't be given some golden ticket and he'd be able to come up where I was.

That's when I started planning. If Hristea couldn't be where I was, I'd just have to be where he was. I thought it'd be easy enough, just picture what I wanted most – an outlet back to earth – and I could leave.

Yeah, right.

It took me a whole fucking month of thinking before I started to cheat the system. It got so bad that I would concentrate so hard and I'd just pass out.

Then I got the marks.

It hurt like a bitch, and I mean these things were _everywhere_. It started as a burn in my left ankle, it got so bad I couldn't walk. When I moved my pant leg, it was this freaky ink black line scaling my calf, up to my thigh. Then it started spreading.

Vines. Jagged, ugly black vines that worked their way up my hips, scattering these big leafs in all different shapes. They climbed up from my left hip, finally stopping at my jaw. I'd thought it was finally over, until the brand started at the ashy skin of my elbows. I remembered crying for it all to stop. The pain seemed to go on forever – painfully slow, leaving behind long, black layers of twisted grasses and vines.

The burn centered on the right side of my chest, searing my skin away to come to an instantaneous halt. For a while I couldn't breathe, trying to remember how inhaling felt.

When I finally had the strength to manifest a mirror, I found myself totally covered in sweat with all these marks. Like tattoos. Rough, scary looking tattoos. I remember the first thing I thought was, _how the hell am I gonna explain this to Kristine? _

The floor had fallen that second, taking me along with it. I just fell, tumbling, screaming. The wings came then. And they had hurt a million times more than the brand I'd been given. I didn't have to think about them, didn't have to like, plan a route or anything. It was like I'd already made up my mind where I was headed and they were already taking me there.

That was when I found Hristea.

Looking at him now made the whole thing seem like, I dunno, surreal? Putting my hair out of my face, I glanced at him, sitting across the room from me, glaring at his hand the way he was.

I stared at the imprints on his back, at the way the angry black vines curved out from the low line of his pant's waistband. They twisted up the smooth line of his spine, then spread out over his shoulder blades. The wicked black vines were freakier on Hristea than they were on me – or at least I thought.

"What're you doing?" I asked, pursing my lips, watching as he turned his hand over and over again. Hristea turned on his heel, and I caught a glimpse of the paw print on his left hipbone. The vines swung over his rock-like shoulders but stopped there at his collar bones. They were like a frigging canvas to the rumpled scar tissue he had all over his chest, from the chains Sabina had wrapped around him.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Being Man for such a long period of time..." He shook his head, exhaling loudly. "It's not natural for my body."

Rolling my eyes, I went to say something sarcastic when out came, "How many people have you killed, Hristea?" He looked at me and I knew my expression was probably as surprised as his was.

He gazed at me a moment longer and shrugged, "Enough that I've long since lost count." Hristea flexed his meaty fingers, watching as his nails extended to wolfish claws.

Pressing my lips together I peeked down at my wrist, at the thin crescent bite mark. A scar that wouldn't let me forget that I'd died. That he'd killed me. That thought made me angry, I mean, I really liked it and all and I know I would have died anyways – but still. It's embarrassing walking around saying, _"oh, yeah my boyfriend killed me. It happens,"_ Like, I wasn't Analeigh. Stuff like that bothered me.

"Don't." I hissed, pushing Hristea's presence out of my mind. One thing I liked about this whole Engraving thing? Not only could I like, meddle in his head as much as he could mine, but I could shove him out too.

Glowering at him, I clenched my teeth when he said, "It was an _accident_." The glint in Hristea's green eyes made it really hard for me to stay all mad at him, and the way he smirked made it clear he totally knew that.

Running my hand over the deep gouges in the tabletop I pushed myself off the edge. I liked not having to explain myself, because he already knew where I was going because he felt me make the decision. Not that I, ya know, really wanted to go home at all.

My feet slapped on cold floor, from rounding stone to flat, shimmery wood. While I thought about what I was gonna tell Kristine – well, obviously not that I'd died last month – I mean, what she didn't know wouldn't kill her so...

"It's not fair!"

I knew that whimper. But it was rare that Emilia whined, I mean, she got whatever she wanted anyways so what's the point?

Someone growled, low and rumbling like thunder. "I was never attempting to be fair to you Emilia. Ma-"

Dorian was cut off.

"You know that isn't what I mean!" Emilia's voice dropped to a whisper, and I could just see her fluttering those super model eyelashes of hers. "You never wanted a child for us."

Dorian sighed, I pressed myself against the wall hoping that I'd just melt right into it. "Emilia," He mumbled, and there was a sound that almost made me think he'd kissed her. "You could have never been what Analeigh is to me or Maxine."

I swallowed audibly, holding my breath and hoping they wouldn't hear me. It's great, being able to sneak up on a vampire. Octavianus said that because they were predators it was only natural for them to sense humans. Because they were Undying it was their instinct to feel the presence of other Undying. And because they were damned, someone like me went right off the radar.

I heard the soft sound as Dorian strode away from her. I never would have heard this sound as a human, but I was glad I could now, 'cause it sounded like he was going in a completely different direction than me.

Waiting, pinned against the wall, I sighed when I heard the quiet click-clack of Emilia's heels. Breathing heavily, I made my way speedily around the corner, opening one of the windows I wasn't supposed to and dove out.

I loved being immortal, ya know, without all the draw backs Hristea had. After all, I really frigging enjoyed my sunshine! Not to mention, I had my share of blood as it was, I didn't have any plans to be drinking that crap.

Flying, well, I got used to that a little bit. Yeah I know, I've been flying for like, two weeks – I'm not a pro or anything yet. It's not like I'm as good as Emilia, but I don't have to think about it – I just jump and go.

Pick a place and my wings'll take me there.

I dropped in the field behind the Cohen house, groaning as I pulled my wings in. It felt like I was setting a broken bone, re-snapping them over and over again until they properly fit inside me.

Hobbling towards the house, I was careful not to get my Gucci jeans dirty – Ekaterina would totally slaughter me. Straightening the clingy white laced camisole and tugging on the black silk vest I wore over it, I headed toward the house.

One thing I hated about living in Octavianus' castle was that I always had to look the part too. Like, can't I be a princess and get to wear track pants? C'mon!

Carefully knocking on the front door, I pulled my hair over my shoulder to hide the vines on my neck. Kellen opened the door, calling something crude over his shoulder as he did, when he saw me his jaw dropped.

Rolling my eyes I muttered, "Hey," under my breath and slipped inside. I heard Kristine banging around in the kitchen, while Gavril, Stellar and Uncle Nick's voices resounded in the living room. Kellen shuffled behind me as I slunk into the kitchen, Kristine humming away as she dropped six golden yellow cobs of corn into a bubbling pot.

"Um." Kellen cleared his throat, "Mom." Kristine gave a two second glance over her shoulder before turning back to what she was doing. I waited.

"Oh my God!" She screamed, whirling around and snatching me off my feet. I grimaced while she hugged me, not wanting to ruin her moment, but not totally enjoying the feeling either. When she dropped me she shook me, "Where the hell have you been?"

I clenched my teeth, trying my hardest not to shove her off me. "Uh," I shook my head and shrugged. "I was just...hangin' with Analeigh, ya know, we had this party that was just to _die_ for." I couldn't help but laugh near the end, it was a nervous sound.

Kristine looked at me with wide eyes, letting me go so she could cup her face in her hands and groan. I smiled stiffly, running my fingers through my hair, suddenly aware of Gavril, Stellar and Uncle Nick's presence in the kitchen. The room felt uncomfortably small.

"Damn!" Kellen whispered, his hand coming out to ruin my hair. "I'm glad you're okay, kid. That woulda been an awkward conversation with your parents-" Uncle Nick smacked Kellen on the back of the head, not letting him finish.

Someone grabbed my arm and twisted it awkwardly, Gavril touched the brand on my forearm then glared at me. Aunt Kristine moved my hair away from my throat and gasped, I ripped my arm from Gavril's long fingers, holding back the urge to punch him in the mouth.

"A party huh?" Gavril spat through his teeth, he was furious, but I had a feeling he wasn't pissed at me. At least not too much. Gavril stomped out of the kitchen, Kellen on his heels. When I looked back at Kristine she just shook her head, why didn't I think of an excuse for this? Ugh! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

I coughed awkwardly, "Well, what's important is that I'm ya know, alive right?" Glancing between Kristine and Nick, I saw their faces fall and knew it probably wasn't such a good idea coming back.

"We thought something serious had happened to you, Sawyer." Uncle Nick murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We, um..."

Kristine took up his sentence and she touched my cheek when she spoke. "Your Father's on his way here. He should be arriving on Thursday." Kristine sucked in a deep breath, "So he can take you home."

"What?" I breathed, trying to figure out why there was a sudden like, lack of oxygen around me. "What did you just say?" Staggering away from them I clutched the edge of the kitchen table, holding myself still.

Kristine's eyes flickered between the brand that was supposed to make me and Hristea totally inseparable. She looked...sorry. Sorry? Was that supposed to make me feel better? What would I tell Dad? I couldn't just say that this million-year-old vampire was the peanut butter to my jelly!

I spun for the doorway. "Hey," Uncle Nick's big hand fell around my wrist his fingers probably leaving marks on my skin. "I was scared Sawyer, I thought that..."

That was all I heard before tuning him out. All I saw were the chalky latex gloves the nurses at Black Wood wore. Staring at his hand on me, I twisted my wrist, squealing low in my throat before he frantically let me go.

Racing for the stairs I stumbled on the carpet, feeling like I needed to fight to get through the narrow hallway to my room. Hristea sat on the foot of my bed – still unmade from the day I'd vanished – his green eyes narrowed.

Sucking in a deep, shuddering breath, I swallowed sharply. Ugh! I've cried like, twice since I came back like, give me a break! My nose started to tingle and I held my breath deep in my chest, hoping that'd keep the tears down.

"_Sawyer." _He didn't say it out loud, but in my head. The sound of his voice made me sick, the pressure he put on my thoughts when we shared a mind gave me a splitting headache.

Slamming the door behind me, I heard the quiet shaking sound as my mirror, dresser and lamp began to rock. Raking my fingers through my hair, I crossed the gap between us and put myself in his grasp. First Hristea flinched away from the 'warmth,' he claimed I was emitting – if anything it felt like he'd gotten colder. Like ice.

His arms were like thick bands around me. I liked that idea, like I was perfectly hidden right here between the gates of his arms and the wall of chest. I leaned away from him, shifting myself in his lap. "I have...two...three days left." I blinked, looking at my open window when I spoke, the way my curtains twisted in a light breeze. The sun had long since sunk behind a layer of pink and orange clouds.

Hristea's mouth skimmed my forehead, my temple, the shell of my ear. "Two, three nights as well." I felt my nose scrunch, Hristea lifted a hand to my face, thumb grazing my cheek. He stared at the tear on the pad of his thumb, openly confused by it, he crushed it under his index finger.

"I don't want to leave." I murmured, biting back tears. Hristea kissed the skin under my ear exhaling loudly, the icy feel of his breath made my skin tighten. There, where my brand was a tingly feeling spilled down my spine and I gasped. Hristea smirked.

I wondered about that now that I was distracted, why when Gavril touched them I wanted to punch him out, and when Hristea did I felt like I was gonna explode.

I lifted my hand to poke the vines that had fallen over his shoulder, running the tip of my finger from his collar bone, over to his shoulder blade. Hristea groaned, taking us backwards and onto the bed.

"Couldn't you just, ya know, come with me?" I talked to his neck, not wanting to see his expression. Hristea dragged his palm over my hair, I felt him sigh more than heard it.

Shaking his head, he pressed his face to my hair. "And what? Live in your closet forever?" Hristea's hand moved from the back of my head, to just under my chin. He forced me to look at him when he said, "We _will_ be together. Perhaps not now, but what is time to one who does not age?"

Clenching my teeth, my nose wrinkled. His skin was super cold, it was like kissing an ice cube all the time. "That's not good enough." I murmured, not totally meaning to sound as pissed off as I did.

Hristea looked at me carefully, fangs showing when he answered me. "Sawyer, we knew you would have to leave. Analeigh told me you would only be staying until the end of the school year." His eyes narrowed a little, "It doesn't change anything."

I rolled my eyes. "Um, yeah it does, I want to stay _here_. It's not like I did all that just to leave you again." Hristea got tense underneath me, he blinked once then stared up at the ceiling. I felt his befuddlement, the muddle of feelings that were bolting through him a mile a minute. It made me dizzy.

Pressing my fingers into the smooth skin under his collar bone, Hristea peered up at me from under thick black eyelashes. I slid back a bit when he pushed himself up onto his forearms, to lean his forehead to mine. "I'll find you." He promised, "No matter how far apart we are. I'll find you."

Kristine almost didn't let me go to school on Monday. Not that I really wanted to, having to wear the itchy black turtle-neck sweater she'd bought me. It covered the Engraving marks scattered over my upper body, but it took a lot of arguing before she let me wear my own hip-hugger jeans again.

School was...awkward, ya know, uncomfortable and stuff. People were like, staring at me, I felt my face to make sure there wasn't any amoeba-type-thing sucking my eyeball out. Yanking up the neck of my sweater, I shifted around in the scratchy fabric, the wings held in my back feeling irritatingly restrained.

School was, well, school. I put up with it and all, killing my day out until night time swung around. By the time I got home, ate half of the crap in the fridge, showered, helped Kristine cook and serve dinner, Hristea was waiting in my room.

Yeah, night time didn't seem long anymore. No matter where we were, morning had to come, and then the endless process went on again. No matter what I did to drag out the hours we had, it always ended. It pissed me off that Analeigh could just peace out and leave her old life behind. It was like, not only did she get whatever she wanted, but she got to be a completely different person too.

Sitting at a table in the cafeteria, picking at the ham-and-cheese sandwich Kristine had packed me, I clenched my teeth. I didn't have much of an appetite because I wasn't human anymore, and I never really got tired either. Sometimes I'd nap for an hour or whatever, but it seemed more mandatory than something I really wanted to do.

What would I do back home? I missed Dad and Harlow and all that jazz, but it'd become a background thought in my head in the days that passed. I'd go back to the house, back to my school, back to my friends. How would I explain that I'd found the cure to my own disease?

There were too many things I had to deal with back home. I knew Dad wouldn't let me stay here though, not his only daughter. And he sure as hell wouldn't believe me if I said that I was dating a vampire. Or that, ya know, this vampire had literally become part of me. He'd be pissed once he saw my 'tattoos,' of course neither Kristine nor Nick could explain how I'd gotten them.

Slouching over my lunch, I fought off all these thoughts. I'd deal with all that junk when I like, came to that bridge or whatever. I took teeny sips from my water bottle while I waited for lunch to be over. The faster I finished third and fourth period, the faster I could get home.

The chair opposite me squealed when Gavril sat down. I glared at him, setting my bottle down and screwing the lid back on. He cleared his throat, making the bulge of his Adam's apple jerk up and down. "Why'd you do it?" He whispered viciously.

I didn't have to tell him anything, Gavril knew that. Besides, at this point, I'm way the hell stronger than he could ever dream of being. I smirked, wanting to rub it all in his face. "Do what?" I matched his tone, inclining myself over the table top and hissing.

Gavril's hazel eyes scraped over me angrily. He was giving me the kind of glower that Aunt Kristine gives Kellen when he makes dirty jokes at the table. "You _know_." He snarled through his teeth. "Do you seriously think that mark's gonna last after you leave? I heard the way Analeigh talks about Hristea, there's no way he plans to stay single for long."

I slammed my fist on the table, doing my best not to draw attention to the dent I'd just made. "I know the rules to Engraving Gavril, and I'm pretty sure I never asked for your opinion on _us_."

He snorted back a laugh, combing his shaggy blond hair back. "You're just a kid Sawyer, what makes you think he's gonna have any interest in you after you leave? I'm surprised you lasted this long." Gavril crossed his arms on the table, lifting a sandy blond eyebrow at me.

In that minute, I wanted to tell him everything that'd happened just to shut him up. It took every bit of my will power not to just jump over the table and clobber him. Instead I snatched up my water bottle, tore the cap off and threw all my water in his face. Gavril – and the people around us who got wet – gasped and jumped up from their chairs.

I threw my water bottle at him, grabbing the brown bag that was the rest of my lunch and storming my way out of the cafeteria.

I spent third and fourth period in the bathroom, pretending I needed to touch up my eyeliner whenever someone walked in. Playing with my hair, I rolled the neck of my sweater down, touching the fiendish black vine that curled there.

It was kinda pretty in a way. Well, ya know, if it wasn't so like...what's the word? Ominous? Sure, why not.

After school I raced to beat Gavril home. Hoping I could snack, shower and hide in my room, before he forced me to do something I probably wouldn't regret, but would get in a lot of trouble for.

It was fun, being able to cheat. I mean, flying is probably the fastest form of transportation next to like, a vampire. I was all showered and eating popcorn on my bed when Gavril came home. I knew it was him by the way he slammed the door shut.

One time, Uncle Nick threatened to like, remove all the doors in the house so we couldn't ruin them with our teenage angst.

He boomed upstairs and in like, ten minutes he was blaring music that made my dresser shake. Two can play that game. Rolling off the edge of the bed, I hooked up my iPod and started spinning through my music. I landed on some song by Lights, then turned it up until I was relatively certain the walls were shuddering.

Digging around in my drawers, then opening up my half-empty suitcase, I found the pouch of nail polish I'd been looking for. I sat on the carpet to lean on the foot of my bed, starting with my toenails. I filed and clipped and painted until my toes and fingers were all a near-black shade of purple.

I stole the fan out of Stellar's room, parking myself in front of it while waiting for the paint to dry. After a while, Aunt Kristine came in and didn't try to hide her staring.

I finally understood why Emilia rarely wore anything that had a back to it. It was raining outside, and even in the house it was all sticky and humid, though it was nowhere near warm enough to be wearing a tube-top. I wore the navy blue tube-top Harlow had given me in grade seven, and a pair of grey sweats.

My hair pulled up in a big bun, I stared up at her, holding my feet in the air while my toes dried in front of the fan. Most of the Engraving marks I knew she could probably see, but if she already knew about Hristea what was the point in hiding?

Aunt Kristine's eyes were rarely on my face, my skin practically burned wherever her gaze went. "Sawyer." She started, and I knew she had no idea what the hell she was getting herself into. "You know Nicholas and I love you, yes?" I nodded, she went on, "I just want you to know that...the decision we made was strictly for your wellbeing. Honey, I don't want you to go, don't think that-"

I interrupted, sinking deeper into the carpet. I don't wanna talk about this right now. Not after what happened with Gavril at school. "Seriously, Kristine." I tried not to sound as annoyed as I felt, "I get it. Just...never mind."

That was all I could think of to say. I wanted to hate her – I wanted to hate her _a lot_. I find a place – a person – that finally makes me feel..._normal_ and I'm losing it. It's like fighting a battle that you're already gonna, ya know, not win.

Kristine opened her mouth and I just flicked my hand at her. "Don't." I shook my head, the carpet scratching the back of my neck. "All I want right now is...space. Please just, leave me alone."

What could she say? I mean, I know Mom's are supposed to make things all better. I just didn't want _all better_ right now. I wanted to be left alone, to have time to do whatever I wanted to do. Dad was coming in a day-in-a-half, I only wanted things to be the way they were before.

Kristine didn't talk to me all through dinner. Gavril didn't even come down to eat with us. I smirked a little, the asshole, I was sure that if he'd come down her I'd have to like, throw my plate at him. I ate quickly so I could leave quickly, trying not to stare at Stellar's hair while I put my dishes in the sink. I left the kitchen as Uncle Nick launched into this story about some idiot intern at the office, who broke the copy machine.

As I came up the stairs, I heard laughter coming from Gavril's open bedroom door. I had to pass it anyways, and it seriously irritated me that he was happy for whatever reason. Stomping up to his door, I paused when I saw Analeigh's perfect, teeny figure sitting on the roof outside the open window. Gavril's lanky legs were spread out beside her, but I couldn't see him entirely.

Her red hair swung round when she peeked over her shoulder at me, grinning faintly before nudging the air with her chin. Squinting at her, I moved down the hallway in the direction she'd pointed. Opening my door I found Hristea sitting on my windowsill, his huge frame obviously not meant to be sitting there.

I smiled at him for a minute, relieved by the sense that I was kinda literally complete. It felt good, fusing with him, like we were turning back into one person again. Hristea exhaled. How could I go back home, where we'd have to be even farther apart when already it hurt so much to be.

Sitting beside him, I felt Hristea slip away from me for a split second. That always made me flinch a bit when he did that, ya know, moved away from me with the crazy fast vampire speed. A speed that I could see now – but still. Then he snapped back like an elastic, winding his big arms around me.

I turned my face hoping he'd kiss me, knowing he'd feel the want like it was his own. Hristea ducked his face under my chin, and I jerked away when I felt the prick of his teeth. When I looked at him, his whole face was covered in this...shock? Yeah, that's it, shock.

But I didn't need to say anything to know the question we both wanted an answer to: what would happen if he bit me?

Like, I wasn't human anymore. Still, I didn't think a vampire would be able to bite an angel, that just seemed like common sense. Besides, my blood fixed things, it'd probably heal the bite just as he took it.

Tilting my head, I felt his mouth touch under my ear, then grimaced at the stab of his fangs. I groaned, gripping the rough denim of his jeans, closing my eyes. Hristea hissed suddenly, jerking away and bared his fangs at me. Wide-eyed I took my hand from where it'd been clutching at his thigh to touch his mouth.

My fingers swept over the shimmery, pearl white sheen on his mouth and chin, where my blood had burned his skin away. Hristea's tongue darted out. A thin, black forked tongue that swivelled out over my fingertips and his lips.

It'd been enough to force him away, but Hristea's skin mended just as fast as it'd burned away. The thin, crisp curls of his skin coming apart and folding back over the wounds I'd made, turning back to their original ivory white. "_Owch_." He grunted through his teeth.

"Big baby." I snorted, "I guess that's not gonna work, huh?" Hristea rolled his eyes, a big hand coming up to my face to tilt my head again. His tongue moved over the stinging crescent on my neck. Hristea growled, the sound and smell of burning flesh coming up to my wrinkling nose.

The bite was already healed, I knew, by the time he'd went to staunch the blood. He sighed, the icy tip of his nose pressing into my pulse. "You are delicious." Hristea mused, I made a face, pushing him away from me.

"Eww!" I shook my head, "Who the hell says that?" Sneering I watched as Hristea grinned, his hand dropping to his lap. His white eyes fell back to green while he straightened the grey-white V-neck he wore.

Hristea slipped back onto his forearms, muttering, "Undying say things like that." He looked maybe too amused to be like, taking me seriously even a little bit. Hristea's eyes flickered up to the ceiling and back to me, his eyes narrowed. "What's bothering you?"

Thinking about Gavril made me want to hit somebody. He was such a jerk! A good ass kicking would shut his trap no problem. Gavril was like a toothpick compared to me now – being immortal and all, I could totally snap him in half.

Shaking my head slightly, I jerked my fingers through my hair, taking out my bun to pile it back up again. "I dunno. Gavril's just being..." Clenching my teeth I dug my nails into my duvet. Hristea's forehead puckered in a way I'd never seen before, I pressed my lips together as I struggled to lock him outa my thoughts.

I avoided his gaze. I knew what he was doing, I'd seen him do it all the time to Angelica, mesmerize her with a glance. "Stop." My voice sounded more like a whine than a command and Hristea's lips twitched.

"He just said you wouldn't want me after I left." I hissed, looking at him sharply, teeth clenched. Hristea blinked at me, he processed all this with a really like, guarded expression. I could feel it though, all the things that swished through him, all kinds of emotions before he settled on one.

His green eyes gleamed in the dark of my room. He didn't say anything. I stood up, cracked my back and crossed the room to unplug the fan and flick the lamp on. Fixing my tube top, I slapped the knot of bleach blonde hair on the top of my head and blew out a heavy breath.

Hristea cocked an eyebrow at me then grunted, "And do you believe him?" I rolled my eyes dramatically. What a stupid question.

"Of course I don't!" I grumbled, grinding my fists into my hips. "I might've like, two months ago maybe." Shrugging, I squinted at Hristea, waiting for him to say something else.

His green eyes fixed on me, like a fat kid eyeing up a hunk of cake. "You're angry that he's reminded you of leaving." Hristea murmured holding his lips in a firm line before pinching the bridge of his nose.

I didn't want to admit it. I just wanted to hurt Gavril's feelings like he'd hurt mine. Seeing him in pain would make me feel better, wouldn't it? I mean, he totally had it coming!

The corners of Hristea's mouth fidgeted on his face, looking goofy and clumsy. I clenched my teeth, turning on the balls of my feet to stare into my mirror. Behind my reflection was my bed, the duvet dipping where I knew Hristea was sitting, but his reflection was unseen.

Freezing up, I dropped my hands onto his arms, I tilted my head back into the groove of his shoulder. "We barely have a day." My voice shook, "Can we just...screw it all?" Hristea touched the tip of his nose to the top of my right ear.

"Dance with me." Was all he said, arms tightening. My hand fumbled for my iPod, the walls starting to shake again. I closed my eyes...

I was quiet Thursday morning, Kristine had already come in and told me I didn't have to go to school. It wasn't like I had any friends to say bye to anyways.

This skin of my shoulder blades broke, my fingers clamped on the pillow I'd buried my head under. I held my breath, the loud snapping noise making me gag as my wings forced free of my skin. It was a relief not to have to hold them in anymore, and they slumped at their full span over the sides of my bed.

It was cool under my pillow, the sudden iciness waking me up. I was so pissed off I didn't know what to do with myself. I cried for like, half an hour before I realized what a pussy I was being. Like, get over yourself Sawyer, ya pansy.

Hristea's thoughts reached out to mine, but I pushed his comforting away. It seemed more like pity than actual care. My eyes stung. The mattress under my face was soaked. I couldn't breathe.

"_Sawyer." _Hristea's voice finally broke through the last bit of my mental wall or whatever Octavianus called it. _"I don't know what to say." _I clenched my teeth, combing all my hair out of my face and digging my nails into my pillow.

"_Talk to me." _He persisted, I hated having him talk to me like this, it gave me a huge headache afterwards. But I didn't want him to like, stop either. _"You know I'll come for you." _

Trying to roll over, I gasped, remembering I had wings. Wings that hurt like hell when they were stretched in the wrong way. Closing my eyes, I slouched into my mattress pushing my face into the squashy fabric. _"That's not the point." _I answered finally, _"How long will it take?" _

Hristea didn't answer and I felt the pressure on my mind start to fade and stuff. I dozed off into a dry sleep, one that was uncomfortable and short. But I dreamt.

I was like, aware that it was just a dream, that everything here was totally fake and all. It was just nice to act.

We sat in the sea of flowers, the endless hills that were riddled with them. Hristea waded through the rainbow of colour towards me, sitting in a ground of knee-high daisies. He brought with him this really like, I dunno...creepy feeling? It made my face get all scrunch-ish. When he kneeled down to my level, I felt like there was a huge rain cloud over me.

Shrugging my shoulders I pulled at the stretchy band of elastic, that kept my track pants bunched at the ankle. He reached his arm out, twisted his fingers in my hair and grinned, a kinda depressing grin.

His lips twitched on his face, his eyebrows coming together. "I promised." His voice made everything worse. Like, it was bad enough that I had to leave today, but it was worse now that I could see him up close and personal. "I will find you."

Shaking my head I clenched my teeth, moving so he'd have to let go of my hair. My stomach was all funky, I hated being in such an irritatingly cheery place when I was totally not in a good mood.

Wanna know what's funny about dreams? It's like, every little thing you think or do has this massive effect on everything. Dark clouds started to roll up on us, burping out thunder and sending down these big, bright claps of lightening. It started raining so hard that if I looked up right now, it'd be like getting punched in the face.

I held my teeth together until my jaw hurt. Hristea's green eyes were all guarded and junk, his face emotionless. Although, I could feel his impatience like it was going outa style.

"I want _the_ words." I said it like a compromise but it damn well wasn't. Hristea blinked, his thick eyelashes stuck together because of the rain, while fat droplets curved down his face.

Watching him carefully I pulled my hair over my shoulder, annoyed by how wet it was, pissed off because it glued to me. I sniffled, the tip of my nose gone cold from the harsh breeze whipping through the flowers.

Hristea shook his head, "I can't." I started to yell when he growled and slapped his hand over my mouth. "What good are they if I don't know what they mean?" He cocked his head to the side, looking like a puppy that didn't know why he was getting in trouble.

Squirming, I liked his palm, leaving a long wet trail when he jerked his hand away. Hristea stared at his palm, turning it over like he didn't know why those things called fingers were sticking out of his arm.

"What do you mean?" My teeth chattered, and I yanked my fingers through my hair, trying to get the itchy strands off my face. Hristea glanced from his hand to me before dropping his arm to his side completely.

He just shook his head, his fangs showing in the dim light when he said, "I'm not going to tell you if I don't mean it." He moved before I could stop him, and I felt really, really fucking small pinned beneath his like, beast of a figure. "But I can show you."

I recognized the expression on his face. I could pull back the memory like it was my own, even though it wasn't. Hristea sitting on Quinzelle's bed, looking like the cocky seventeen-year-old he had been. That exact same smirk...

Hristea bit at my skin, not hard enough to break through, but enough that I couldn't focus. "I _hate_ it when you do that." He snarled, green eyes flickering up from a layer of black eyelashes.

Grinning, I tilted my head, a sharp raindrop splattering clear on my forehead. Yeah, damn straight I can search for a memory in his head and relive it. I'm just that frigging awesome!

The grass clung to my bare skin, all sticky and gross, goose bumps piling up on my body from the cold. I felt wet and clammy and just..._yuck_! Hristea rested his forehead on mine, glimmering trails of rain curbed down from his hair and dribbled on our faces.

He closed his eyes for a second, chuckling. Irritated I hissed, "What?" From between my teeth. He opened his eyes, looking at where his hands sunk into the grass above my head.

Hristea shook his head. "This is extremely inappropriate." He snorted, still laughing while his mouth brushed mine. "I'm _twenty_."

I smirked, gripping the neck of his shirt between my slippery fingers. My whole body shook with shivers when I bit his lip, "I know right!" Hristea blew out an icy breath, almost as cold as the wind around us. I closed my eyes, "Pedophile."

He grunted, shaking his head. "No," Then he pulled away, looking at me seriously as he said, "Technically it's not rape if you like it." He just looked so insulted by my comment.

I burst out laughing, blinking away the rain. "Good point." He kissed my throat, where my brand was, then moved up to my eyelids. Hristea's fangs grazed over my cheek when I turned my head, trying to get closer.

Pressing the tips of my fingers into the curve of his jaw, I tried to think of a time when I'd been kissed like this. I mean like, yeah, it's like the norm to kiss boys at my school because it's an all girls school and stuff. There was like, a 'scandal' every week.

There was Salem, who I hoped never made it back to the States. Maybe his plane crashed on the way and – whoops! Bye, bye douche bag. We'd had sloppy kisses, like the messy ones you'd see on some like, porno.

They were never like this.

Hristea hissed, not completely drawing his face away from mine, just enough that it was annoying. "Don't you dare compare _me_ to _him_." Now the insult on Hristea's face was real, he looked scarily pissed off – he felt scarily pissed off! "Never."

Pressing my lips together I wanted to defend myself but couldn't. "It wasn't in a bad way." I murmured, lifting my head to bring him back but Hristea moved just a fraction out of my reach again. Clenching my teeth I swore under my breath, "You have serious jealousy issues."

Hristea's nostrils flared, "I do not. You thinking about him just agitates me." I rolled my eyes slow enough that he could see how rude I was being.

Narrowing my eyes at him I pursed my lips, "Yeah, Hun, you're jealous. No, you're _green with envy_!" I spoke melodramatically, like I would in drama class but Hristea wasn't having any of it.

Letting go of his shirt I put my hands up, holding them in the air for a few seconds then dropped them on the flowers. "Fine, you win." Hristea stared at me for the longest five minutes of like, my life. I sighed, "Hey, will you come tonight...when I have to..." I didn't want to say it and it felt like the word was clinging to the back of my throat. "When I have to catch my plane?"

Hristea squinted, rolling off of me I heard the long stems of flowers snap as he fell down beside me. I pulled my clothes away from my body, grimacing when they slopped back against my skin. I closed my eyes slightly, flinching when the rain hit my face. Hristea slipped his fingers under my neck, his thumb grazing over the Engraving mark on my throat.

"I'll be there." He answered, I closed my eyes listening to the squash of damp grass when he rolled toward me. He kissed my jaw. "I promise." His hand fell away from me, followed by his voice.

Panic came up in my gut like I was gonna be sick. I jerked upwards, smacking the orange and red striped pillow beside me. "Wait!" The pillow that had been on my head bounced on my legs, I stared at the sheets below me. Touching the shiny scar on my wrist I clenched my teeth, swearing as I sat up.

It was hard to turn around without knocking anything over, and I glared at the powdery white of my wings. There on the foot of my bed I saw this bright break in the red and orange. I leaned over, picking up the bright, almost electric fuchsia orchid.

"Sawyer!"

I scrambled to bring my wings in fast enough, Kristine opened my door just as they slithered inside me again. She smiled, it was a teeny miserable smile while she leaned on my doorframe. "Hey." He mumbled, waving slightly.

I couldn't smile, I was too disoriented. From the dream, from the wings. My whole head was reeling, Kristine tilted her head when I nodded at her. "Nicholas just went to pick your father up at the airport. Did you...need help packing your things? We talked and, Nathan agreed to stay until tomorrow night before you left." She sounded hopeful and sad, I couldn't tell which one was stronger.

Shaking my head I shrugged at her, pulling my hair outa my face. "No, I'm good." I didn't bother to hide my flower, plucking the pedals off of it as I was. It killed me to think about packing my things up...like, a few weeks ago I would have loved to get up and peace out. Now? There was just no way I was gonna be able to do this.

Kristine came into my room, glancing for a few seconds at the blood stains in my carpet. She sat at the end of my bed, looking awkward and uncomfortable. Aunt Kristine reached out and tucked a clump of my hair behind my ear. Her brown eyes were big and soft and...nothing like my mom's.

I tried to think of my mother. Her bone straight thin, brown-gold hair like drapes all around her torso, the almond shaped green eyes that had these long lashes around them. Her tiny body that reminded me of a pencil, she only came up to my Dad's chin. Mom, with her square face and soft features and quiet voice.

I hated her. When had she ever loved me – or Dad for that matter? Even thinking about her pissed me off.

When I imagined Natalie I pictured her like me, well, not like me. All fucked up and stuff. I mean, she would look like Dad, she'd have his sandy blonde hair, she'd have his hazel eyes, she'd be beautiful.

Blinking, long and hard I exhaled slowly. "Thanks." I nodded, strange how hard it was for me to say something like that. Usually I had issues apologizing, only 'cause I hate saying sorry for anything. Kristine grinned hugely, making me instantly think of Kellen. I went on, "For like, everything."

Kristine pulled her shoulders in and shrugged. "Ya know, I didn't think it would be easy, having you here. I guess I was just excited that there would be another girl in the house," Kristine's cheeks turned into this bright, burning pink. "After Nathan told me about you, what all you had gone through, I knew we would have some difficulties. But...I never thought this part would be so _hard_."

I made a face, watching as he blinked back tears, curling a blonde hair around her index finger. It was weird, seeing people that weren't me cry, it irritated me a lot. I never enjoyed comforting people and stuff.

"What?" I asked, forcing a grin. "Getting rid of me? It's not like I've been a perfect little princess this whole time." Kristine laughed, nodding with this massive, goofy grin on her face. "I thought you'd be throwing a party or something."

She dropped her hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "Don't be silly. You're a delinquent – I won't sugar coat it. And I did just want to ship you back in an airtight box after the first week," She snickered, wiping under her eyes. "Not even Kellen was as bad as you are! Which is certainly saying something, you're one hundred percent your father's daughter."

I rolled my eyes, how many times was she gonna say that, waiting for me to believe it? Kristine lowered her hand to mine, giving it a squeeze when she gave me this very wily sort of smirk. "C'mere," She said pulling my hand, "I'll prove it to you."

After I'd thrown on a sweater Kristine took me down to the living room, where I sat on the couch, feet crossed under me. I tried not to think about the hour drive that separated me from my Dad. Hristea meant so much to me now...it was gonna suck to have to leave him. _Again_.

The thump of big books on the coffee table made me jump up. Kristine plopped down beside me, the old beige cushions bouncing with the added weight. She sighed, skimming her hands over the different albums, all of them fat and old.

She picked out one and slid it towards us on the table. I pretended to be all happy-go-lucky and pumped up for her sake, Kristine looked at me and shook her head. "Just wait." She quipped, "You'll be surprised."

Yeah, pictures of my dad and Uncle Nick. Not like we didn't have like, ten billion trillion at our house. Like, c'mon now! Kristine bit her lip, flipping open the heavy blackish brown cover page.

On the inside, set in a plastic protector was a black piece of construction paper, written on with bright lime green pen. The person's hand was extremely familiar, all stringy and slanted:

_High school_

I stared at my Dad's hand writing, suddenly feeling like I wasn't...I dunno, _ready_? Yeah, I wasn't ready to see what Kristine wanted to show me. She obviously noticed this and smirked, turning the page anyways, revealing two rows of school photos. Above them was written: _Grade Eleven_.

She cleared her throat, "These ones," She said as she tapped her index finger on the two below her picture. These were of guys, one I knew was my Father but I couldn't figure out which one.

The picture in the middle was of a dude that looked pretty much exactly like Stellar, well, before his hair went all crazy coloured. What with the shaggy blond hair, swaying around his eyebrows and ear lobes, though his whole face was covered in a smooth layer of dark freckles. Baby fat clung to his cheeks still and his smile was wide and toothy, the guy even wore a retainer.

Now, the dude in the next row of pictures was totally different. He had the same wide hazel eyes as the guy before, and the same dimples around his mouth. However he was...like, scarier? The way he looked back at the camera made me wonder if the camera man died after he took the shot.

He just looked so unimpressed, his hair a disarray of shimmery blond hair, resting on his shoulders. It was clear he was clenching his teeth, it was then I realized he wasn't even staring at the camera, but he was just off of it.

Kristine giggled, then clapped her hands. The sound made my heart skip, when I glanced over at her Kristine had this giant, victory grin on his face. She sighed, pointing at the second picture, "This is Nathan." I snorted, how cliché, I should have known. She touched his tight, irritated smile – if you could call it a smile – and said, "You do this all the time."

I wanted to deny it, but when I scanned my eyes over the way he clenched his jaw up I knew it was true. Pressing my lips together I waited for Kristine to flip the page. She looked all wistful and stuff as she did it, bringing us to a new set of pictures.

This one was of my Dad, Uncle Nick and some girl. Dad sat in a grungy, shiny black chair, his face stuck in this kind of hilarious wince as he looked at the camera. Uncle Nick stood behind him, along with a scary looking girl with blue hair, laughing. I got all that, yeah, but I was really just staring at the girl in the picture.

She had longish, wavy white-blonde hair these excited grey eyes set in her oval shaped face. She wore some kind of band t-shirt and slim white skinny-jeans, her hair spread all about her shoulders, in light ringlets around her face. She had one of the like, most beautiful smiles I'd ever seen – on a human being. And Dad had her hand in a death-grip.

"Who's that?" I made a face at the girl, trying to figure out if maybe I knew her from somewhere. I didn't.

Kristine cleared her throat when she looked at me, mumbling. "Sawyer Talbot." She spoke under her breath like she didn't want me to hear, but didn't want to lie either.

Me and Kristine went through all the different pictures, she told me a bunch of stories as we went. And I sat there, trying to stay focused on the distraction she'd given me. What was the point? I mean, it's all over anyway no sense in trying to soften the blow, or whatever.

"Give me those!" A big hand snapped the black book shut, Uncle Nick filling his arms with books until he couldn't carry them anymore. "He'll kill me if he sees-"

"If I see what?" My Dad called from the kitchen, I saw his shadow rounding the corner and nearly threw up. Kristine touched my hair, my shoulder, rubbed my back, but it was all for nothing. Dad came into the living room, almost lunging at me when he scoped me off the couch and into his arms.

Dad smelt like home. It was like he'd brought the sun, the heat, the _everything_ from before on the plane to meet me here. He kissed my nose and then my forehead and both my cheeks, while I flailed my feet around trying to find the ground.

When he put me down, I had to hold his arm to keep from falling over. It was like all the muscles in my legs had turned to like, Jell-O. My head felt woozy, my stomach went into all these weirdly positioned knots. I smiled at him, knowing just how fake it was, "Hey Dad."

He sighed, hazel eyes scanning over me quickly, he grinned in a way that was almost sad as he tucked me under his arm. "I missed ya kiddo." Dad set me back down on the couch to hug Aunt Kristine and thank her for everything. Uncle Nick murmured about getting something from the jeep before he vanished.

_I'm dizzy. _Was all I could think, the whole room was spinning! I felt like all my insides were like, climbing up my throat to fall out my ears and nose. I swallowed unconsciously and held a hand over my nose and mouth. Ugh, so this is what your stomach tastes like? Medic! I need a fucking doctor over here!

Leaning back into the cushions I closed my eyes tightly, trying to think of anything that didn't involve my Father. Coughing over the screams that were building in my twisted lungs, I gasped for air, feeling my heart pushing up my throat.

Kristine and Dad sat on the loveseat across the room from me, talking about my behaviour and what all I'd gotten myself into in the last while. Like Kristine knew half the shit that I'd been meddling in, in the last few weeks, let alone three frigging months.

I staggered to my feet, leaving them laughing in the living room. I could feel Kristine's eyes on me as I stumbled into the kitchen. She couldn't see me here and I made my way for the bottles lined along the counter.

Grabbing a bunch I twisted the caps off, moving the block from the drain and running the water as I dumped them all down. They scattered in the sink, rolling around before plummeting into the black. I slapped the empty bottles away, flinching at the noises they made. I bit the rubbery lids on a few others, spitting them at the backsplash of the counter as I poured four more bottles down the drain.

_Skit, skit, skit, skit! _

The pills orange, white, blue, red splashed in the water. I clutched the edge of the counter, speedily glancing over my shoulder and listening as Kristine's nervous laughter came out of the living room.

Another bottle. Another rainbow of pills. _Skit, skit, skit, skit_...

Turning the tap off I ran a hand over my face, touching the hot trail where tears were coming down my cheeks. Holding back a sob I tripped up the stairs, Uncle Nick shouting my name as I crawled my way down the hall.

When I came to the bathroom, closed the door behind me and listened to the _click_ of the lock, I felt safe. From here I could hear Uncle Nick moving around in the kitchen – cleaning up my mess no doubt.

"_What happened to you Sawyer? You were such a sweet, smart little girl..." _

Dr. Dawn's voice made my ears ring. Muffling a screech with the sleeve of my sweater, I curled into a ball, leaning up against the door. Why couldn't I just...I need to leave. Staying here one more _second_ was just too hard.

I sat for the longest time there on the floor. It took a lot of effort to stand up and wash my face, brush my teeth a second time and head back downstairs. I put on this big show for Kristine, Dad, Uncle Nick when I came into the living room and smiled.

"Dad, I was thinking." I said cheerily, he put down his drink, looking at my Aunt and Uncle before nodding for me to continue. I ignored Kristine's gasp when I said, "Maybe we should catch an earlier flight – like, let's say tonight – I mean, we could just change tickets couldn't we?"

My Dad just looked at me, and I tried to imagine the picture of the guy in the photo album and just couldn't put them together. He pursed his lips, "Sawyer I think you owe it to Kristine and your cousins to give them a proper farewell, don't you?"

That was just a fancy way of saying no.

I clenched my teeth, looking to Kristine for some kind of...support? She cleared her throat, brushing her hair out of her face with the back of her hand. "I think Nathan's right Sawyer, aren't there friends of yours you wanted to say bye to before tomorrow?"

I held in every profanity that had ever come passed my ears. "Sure, I'll do that." I nodded, sucking in a hissing breath I made my way for the kitchen again. They went on with their conversation. Kristine, that backstabber!

Opening the front door I slunk outside, around the house and into the forestry of the backyard. Gavril and Stellar would be home soon, and I didn't want to be around for all that drama.

Starting at a sprint, I didn't pay any attention to the things pricking into my feet as I charged into the field. The wind ripped at my face, stung my teary eyes, burs tugging at my pants. And I jumped. In a series of horribly painful snaps and the tear of my skin my body took to flight.

I sucked at landing still, so it wasn't a surprise when I put my feet out just to fall over myself and crash onto the balcony. Laying there on the cold black stone for a while, I put my hands over my face and really sobbed.

It felt good in this kinda way that made me want to die inside. It had the same effect as cutting, I realized. Losing everything that was important to you, it felt like cutting. If I closed my eyes and held in the howls long enough, I could almost feel the press and burn of razor blades.

Hands locked around my biceps to hoist me to my feet. When I looked up I saw Octavianus standing inside, out of the sun. Servants in burgundy suits with hard, expressionless faces brought me inside to join him.

Octavianus towered over me. Not in the way Gavril did, but in the way that scared me shitless. Maybe if I didn't know him better, I would have run for the hills, but he smiled faintly and brushed his thumb across my cheek.

His long hair was held back by an oily black ribbon, the grey strands that always hung around his forehead and temples swayed while he moved. His fingers had that same kind of roughness like Hristea's did – like a dog's paws – but, something about him made Octavianus' hands seem softer.

Octavianus ran his left hand over the shiny golden buttons of his white blouse. "Come," He murmured. "Let us see if we can't find you something more suitable to wear."

Ya know, it really made me wonder where the hell Hristea and Dorian got their personalities. I mean, Octavianus was quiet, he'd never yelled, so where did those two get off being such assholes?

"Such a good question." Octavianus mumbled, I gazed up to his amused face, he pursed his lips. He held his hands behind his back when he walked, closed his eyes slightly. Yeah, see, if I did that I'd walk into a wall.

I cleared my throat, wiping at my eyes and looking over my shoulder at the cloud of servants behind us. "How come you're awake?" I asked through my teeth, "I mean, everybody else sleeps all day and stuff."

Octavianus shook his head. "Undying grow stronger as we age, I am an Elder, one of The First-" He grinned at my blank expression "-I was the second Undying to ever be Ascended, unlike my children I am not a True Blood."

I threw my hands up, "I have no idea what the hell you're saying! What's a True Blood? I mean, I get you're old and junk but like, what's that got to do with walking around during the day?" I gawked at him, thankful for the diversion he'd made to keep me from feeling sorry for myself.

Octavianus sighed, his eyebrows coming together as his forehead got all wrinkly. That expression was so Hristea that it actually hurt. "I was turned into what you would call a vampyre, many a year ago while Dorian, Emilia and, Hristea were born this way. They are what we call True Bloods, a more..._sophisticated_ breed of Undying, if you will." He kept walking, eyelids drooping.

I put my hair out of my face, hurrying to match his pace. "So what?" I cocked an eyebrow at him, "That doesn't explain anything."

Octavianus turned toward another long hallway, me following while the crowd of servants trailed behind us both. Their presence irritated me more than I really wanted to let on.

He smiled gently, "I'm one of the oldest living vampyres Sawyer, which also makes me one of the strongest. Sunlight no longer is a hindrance to me, now, if I were to step out into the light I would burn, but I do not need to rest as my family does." He spoke almost in a whisper, tilting his head this way and that as he walked.

Octavianus brought me to a familiar doorway, snapping his fingers at two of the servants before nodding for me to continue. I went into Hristea's bedroom while Octavianus mumbled something to the servants. I dunno, maybe I was like, expecting him to be in bed – like a normal person – in some part of my brain. I just really wanted to believe he was there, even though he wasn't.

The click clack of heels and the thud of two heavy doors made me whirl around. The servants, bowed at me. One was tall the size of a toothpick, with longish black hair and spunky hazel eyes, the other chubbier, a bit shorter with soft brown eyes and, asymmetrical auburn hair.

I felt the need to punch the pudgy one as she came up to me. I wasn't in the best mood and Octavianus' little chitchat really didn't do much for me. She looked at me, as only one who worked for a bunch of dead people and, never saw daylight could. "My name is Hannah." She gave me a toothy, metal-mouthed grin.

Clenching my teeth I muttered, "Don't really care," Through my teeth. She blinked at me, totally like, undaunted by my sarcasm. Movement in the corner of my eye brought me back to the tall one who was holding, very delicately, the definition of _little black dress_. I narrowed my eyes at the gown, thinking I could probably take them both if I wanted to. Toothpick first, of course.

"I'm Chloe." The tall one wasn't chipper like Hannah was and she snapped at me like she was PMSing. "It is our orders to dress you, and you'll do so without quarrel."

Oh? Really now? Two words for ya, _Chloe_: Like. Hell.

I snorted, "No actually, I won't." I shook my head, wondering what they'd think if I busted the feathers on their asses. Hannah sighed, buzzing her lips before snatching the dress from Chloe's fingers. Chloe who was glaring at me.

"Please, Miss Sawyer, if you'll just put this on we'll leave you to your things without any trouble." Hannah offered me the dress, her voice as soft and totally innocent as her brown eyes.

Swearing under my breath I ripped it from her fingers. Hannah smiled. Chloe's glower got harder. I glanced at them both, throwing my thumb over my shoulder. "Well go on."

Chloe shook her head, mumbling something I didn't catch as she paced for the doors. Hannah skipped after her, straightening her burgundy uniform and gently closing the doors behind them.

Staring at the dress a moment I thought about leaving it on the floor. Nahh, probably get in shit from Ekaterina if I did that again. Changing outa my clothes, I tossed them on the scratched up table as I pulled the dress over my head.

Wriggling around in the stupid slip, I shoved my arms up and through the spaghetti straps and squirmed until my head followed them. I jerked at the places where the dress was all clumped together, twisting all around to get comfortable.

It was a nice dress, I guess. One that didn't even pretend to come pass my knees, and had this kinda...what's it called? That dress design, something sweet. Bow sweet. No, that's just retarded. Sweetheart! That's the one! Yeah, it had this kinda _sweetheart_ chest design – I dunno, I don't speak fabric-and-fashion.

The dress was snug and black but when I turned it had like, the faintest kinda hint of silver in it. Sure, yeah, I could totally rock this. Mussing with my hair a bit, I walked around the room, my bare feet smacking on the cold floor panels.

I went to the mantle above the fireplace, touching the books that were there. Coughing and wincing away from a cloud of dust, I grabbed Hristea's journal and hurried away.

Walking over to the bed, suddenly glad that the other one had been replaced, I sat down and flipped the book open. When I looked at the pages, the messy handwriting that I never would have been able to read before, I was kinda amazed.

Wherever I skimmed my eyes the words seemed to jump right off the page and into my head, like I'd written the thing myself. I started at the top of the page, reading quickly.

_October 16th. 1899_

_Rain. Always rain. If there ever was a day in London that the skies finally parted and these storms at long last ceased, we would be exposed for the creatures we are. I've come to question that, the existence of my...species. For we truly are just that, creatures, serving no purpose but to kill and revel in the suffering we cause. We do not feel, we know no emotions save for those which we have been taught by our Father – and even then, we still know nothing. I learned pain today. Something I cannot experience physically, of course, but nevertheless, I do indeed feel it as of this afternoon. I had searched myself for any recollection of ever being shouted at in the way Quinzelle had shouted at me. Yet, the only memory I could, even until now, bring forth was that afternoon Dorian destroyed his room. Twenty-three. Twenty-three times he had done it, and on that day I truly saw my Father for what he was. A monster. Quinzelle's voice had plagued me with a nightmare of torment, that which my body had never felt in my entire life. This, this new...sentiment, that I feel, that wounds me indescribably I cannot understand. I simply cannot grasp why it is that I feel this agony, all the workings of an angry, hormonal little human. And yet even now, the torture is inescapable. Which brings me to the question: What am I?_

I stared at the words on the page for a bit longer, then ran my fingers over the words scribbled at the bottom of the yellowed, frayed paper. Words Hristea had crossed out.

_Monster_

_Fiend_

_Beast_

_Murderer_

_Soulless_

_DAMNED _

Quickly I closed the book, staring at the old leather cover, running my fingertip over the patches that were tearing apart. I crawled further onto the bed, rolling onto my back in the pool of navy sheets. I opened the book farther away from that page, reading again.

_September 1st . 1899_

_She was twenty, three years older than I appear. She had green eyes, eyes so unlike the black waters here. She had brown hair. I can still remember the fragrance from her skin, the powdery scent of expensive perfume, the very warmth of her flesh, the moist odour of rain. Her name was Rebecca Beatrice Edwards. The sound of her voice still continues to give me chills, a voice no one shall hear again because I have silenced it. Frequently, I consider the idea of taking the life God has placed on this earth, I cannot begin to explain the feel of doing such a thing. I can only describe the release, in hearing the mellifluous moans and the hysteria as blood flows through me. Blood that does not belong to me. And soon the bodies grow limp, they wilt away in my arms, a hollow memory of what once was. The warmth fades, the heart stops, and for one more fleeting moment, I feel peace._

Grimacing I quickly skimmed through the other pages until I found another one. Hristea was depressing even as a teenager, like, c'mon! Where are the parties and stuff?

My fingertips went numb, the name Rebecca floating around annoyingly in my head. I mean, that's just so like..._morbid_. I pressed my hand over the next entry, feeling where the hard ink-pen had like, nearly cut right through the page.

_September 17th. 1899_

_Thought around her is becoming much more of an obligation than something I feel comfortable doing. It seems that, more and more, in the hours that the day goes by I am yearning for more than merely her company. It's beyond her voice, forever obstinate, the blue eyes that are riddled with distaste. It seems that now, the smallest of gestures, changes everything. The slightest press of her hands on mine now, makes me sick with a wanting I cannot place. It is a strangeness, even in the moments of her laughter, nothing else seems significant but that thirst. My body starves for Quinzelle._

Clenching my teeth I changed the page again, not wanting to read any more about a girl that wasn't me. God damn it, I frigging hate books. There's so many like, _pages_!

_January 6th. 1901_

_I wonder how long Dorian will remain sane before he murders the William boy. The human that so fancies our sister, claims that he loves her. Of course, he knows nothing of our immortality, nothing of the lives we have taken in the time we have lived here. The amusement comes when Emilia declines William's innocent requests for chaperoned strolls in the courtyard. That which Emilia cannot attend because during those hours we must take our rest. I have imagined this day, considered it, wondered what in fact Dorian's initial reaction would be. After all, I suppose Emilia has been his until these past few months. Our sister. Perhaps it is only me who is disturbed thoroughly by their infatuation, to my memory Father has never once made it his duty to question their ways. Though disgusting it is. Envy, although I have seen it on Dorian before, has never come so strong to him as it has recently. Is it twisted for me to enjoy his pain to the extent that I do? Perhaps not. Of course, this question will fester and putrefy, as will Emilia's want for Dorian the longer William continues to breathe. Still, I wonder, how long will it be before it is Dorian's emotions who undermine him? For that day, I cannot wait._

I closed the journal, staring up at the mangled navy canopy I tried to imagine what it must have felt like back then. Obviously the outfits were like, yuck, and so were the people but...what about the vampires?

More than that, I wondered whatever happened to the William dude Emilia had a crush on. I mean, he wasn't a vampire...was he? Nahh, he'd be all up in here with everybody else if he was, plus I there's that Viola guy too.

And they're all immortal. Well, everybody except William. But like, we're all just...never gonna die, ya know? Dad's gonna die and I'm gonna still be around, Mom's gonna die and I just won't give a shit. Still, I think it's gonna be tough going home, what am I gonna do for the rest of forever?

No friends, no parents, not even like, mini me's will be running around terrorizing all that is good and holy in this planet. Then again, I think me and Hristea combined into one thing, yeah, that'd be bad. Like, could you imagine? How fucked would the human race be then? Ha!

"Really, Sawyer?"

I jerked up, glowering at Hristea when he walked in. He smirked, green eyes looking all smug-ish and like, wild. "You're fourteen and already thinking about kids? Has Analeigh been talking to you?"

I snorted, fighting off the great big, itchy blush coming over my face. Clenching my teeth and putting my hair outa my face I said, "Eww, not with your ugly ass, are ya kidding?" Smirking I went on, "And that isn't funny, Analeigh gets really upset about that stuff."

He rolled his eyes overdramatically, heading over to the intercom on the side of the wall. His fingers moved at a speed I probably wouldn't have been able to see as a human, but seemed slow to me now. Angelica's voice came through the fuzz, all stressed and what not. "What do you want now?"

Hristea's lips twitched, I scowled.

Okay, so I didn't really warm up to Angelica in the while we'd seen each other. I dunno, she really wasn't the kind of person that you'd want to _hug_. Like, if Hristea was a plant he'd be...maybe that's not a good example. If Analeigh was a plant she'd be a um, uh, a daisy because they're fragile and like, girly. If Angelica was a plant, she'd be a cactus. Plain and simple.

Hristea laughed, so loud it made my head hurt. He moved away from the intercom, tilting his head as he walked towards me. "A cactus?" He snickered, sitting beside me on the bed. Hristea opened his hand, palm up to me.

"Not a thistle bush?" The harsh skin of his palm bubbled up, bursting open to reveal a scary looking, twisted green mess. Thin white thorns poked up all around the edges, ugly purple flowers spread here and there. I made a face. "Or-" He started again, the thistles turning brown and dying in the open skin of his hand. "-A Rhododendron."

I laughed, "A what?" Hristea grinned at my expression, obviously I looked stupider than I sounded.

He twisted his fingers making a fist, turning his hand so I was staring at the massive bulges of his knuckles. These long, dark green leaves emerged from between his fingers, followed by a cluster of large bell-like, fine purple flowers. I stared at them, thinking I'd like that colour in my hair.

Hristea grunted and I knew he was in my head. Clearly he didn't like the purple streaks idea. He sighed, "They were said to symbolize danger." He chuckled, "To mean 'beware.'"

I grinned, sounded like Angelica.

My good mood died instantly when he leaned into me, Hristea's chin resting on my head. He stretched his fingers, the flowers wilted and died onto the bed sheets. Like I never would. "Hey, my Dad's here." I murmured crushing one of the brown, crunchy flowers under my index finger.

Hristea snorted, his Adam's apple moving against my temple. "What? I hope you don't want me to meet him." It was quiet for a moment, then he laughed. "Good evening Nathan, I am Hristea. Yes, I am roughly nine decades older than you are. Yes, I am dead. No, I wasn't the cause of marks all over your daughter's body. No, I have never had my tongue in her mouth."

Okay, gross. "Eww!" I squirmed away from him, raising an eyebrow at Hristea. "Really? Did you seriously have to go that far?" At this Hristea just smiled, a million different things passing through his head and mine.

Exhaling I clumped a handful of the flimsy black dress I wore and slouched. "My Aunt-" Hristea cut me off to say, "_Kristine_." I nodded. "-yeah, she um, told me to say goodbye to all my friends so..." I shrugged, not wanting to finish my sentence.

Hristea pinched my jaw between his finger and thumb, his green eyes gouging into my face as he looked down at me. "You say goodbye to people you're never going to see again. You never say goodbye to me."

Pressing my lips together I sunk into that thought, wanting it to be real when I knew it wasn't. All the muscles in Hristea's jaw started to surge when he let go of my face to pick up his journal. It seemed so much smaller in his hands. He narrowed his eyes at me, cocking an eyebrow. I couldn't not smile, jumping in to defend myself, "Yeah, um, I got bored."

Hristea ran his free hand over the lumpy cover and growled. "There's much in here I would prefer remained a secret." He confessed, "Some things are not meant for angel's eyes." Hristea glared at the book between his fingers before he threw it across the room. I watched it scrape and twirl across the floor before smacking into the stone wall.

I shook my head, throwing on a too-dramatic pout. "Were those your dark days?" Hristea frowned at me, his bright eyes seemed to fall away from me. He rolled his big shoulders, running his palm over his short hair.

"Every day is my dark day." His eyebrows started to come together, his forehead getting all wrinkly. Octavianus came to mind and I sighed, crawling over to curl in his lap, slouching down his chest.

Hristea was tense. I hated when he was like this, like a computer with a frozen home screen. You keep hitting the Escape button but it never helps. His fingers coiled in my hair, the bed headboard cracking when he leaned against it. "This really sucks, ya know." I grumbled, staring at my feet, the dark purple paint on them.

He chuckled suddenly, but it wasn't a good, happy noise. "You never would have felt this way had I not forced you." Hristea whispered, "You still would have been remotely _alive_."

I leaned my head back, staring up at his closed eyes while he let his annoyance and frustration flow through us both. "I am remotely alive." I argued, not meaning to sound as irritated as I did. "The better, faster, stronger, version of alive."

He shook his head. Hristea's expression was as agitated as he felt to me, like he wanted me to agree with him. Well it wasn't happening. "Remember what I said? We're just screwing it okay." I rubbed my eyes, making sure there were no tears up in there.

Hristea's eyes opened just as his bedroom doors did. Angelica trooped in wearing a long sleeved, V-necked, silk burgundy dress. She came over to the bed and almost groaned out a sigh, she handed Hristea a clear goblet that I pretended not to see. She looked at me then with her stressed out eyes, "Oh, you like the dress?" She looked relived. "Good, it's Armani and it's expensive."

I dragged my palm over the fabric. Sweet, at least I'll have some more bragging rights when I go home.

Angelica turned on her narrow heels and trudged back towards the doors. She put her hand on the door knob and whirled around, pointing a slender finger at Hristea. "Be good. Stop breaking things. And you-" she stabbed her finger at me "-Do not get _anything_ on that gown!" With that Angelica left the room.

Rolling my eyes, I tilted my head back into the hard groove of Hristea's chest. "Breaking things?" I asked, shaking my head slightly.

Hristea looked at the glass in his hand, narrowing his eyes at it like the liquid could drown him. Drown. I pushed the thought out of my mind. Hristea brought the goblet to his mouth gulping the blood back in one knock. Licking his lips Hristea eyed the wall, chucking the glass, the both of us watching it shatter.

He gazed down at me with a wicked smirk, "I have this obsession." Hristea admitted, his voice sounding as fierce as he looked before a hard frown fell over his mouth. "I...threw a chair in your absence. But that was nothing compared to what else I've broken since...since I figured out how strong I am. Angelica feels it's unnecessary to order new furniture every other week." Hristea's scowl stayed but it softened.

I snorted, "You break something every other week?"

Hristea tilted his head from side to side. "I'm very...irritable." He nodded pursing his lips slightly, different words were flickering through his mind though. Words like: dangerous, detrimental, angered, loathing.

The way he stared at me, knowing I was like, browsing through his thoughts. What I wasn't expecting was him to force me out a half second later, I flinched from the abrupt mental door slam.

"Ow." I hissed, rubbing my throbbing temple as I winced up at him. Okay, so I could push him away, but when Hristea did it back, he did it violently. "Why do you do that? I mean, I'm like an open book..." I let my voice die when I saw his expression. "I'm definitely not scared of you, big guy, though I know you try." I snapped sarcastically, trying to lighten the mood. Guess not.

I sat up, turning awkwardly and cracking my back. "What?" I asked, getting really annoyed now. Hristea inhaled slowly, like in the calming way. That bothered me more than I knew it really should've but it just did. "_What_?"

Hristea's green eyes fixed on me. I didn't need to hear his voice or read his mind to know just how pissed off he was – for no damn reason! Did he not realize just how difficult it was for me to be _nice_? Especially when it was to someone I didn't feel like putting that extra effort in for at the moment.

He blinked and turned into a whole different person. Moody much? And here I thought I was the teenage girl. "I'm...sorry?" He murmured, phrasing it a lot more like a question than like, a statement. "I was just thinking, about after...how long it will take."

Shut up. I closed my eyes for a long second but Hristea didn't stop. "How long until it will make sense." His voice kinda had this weird undertone, like he didn't even know what the hell was coming out of his mouth.

Shut up. Shut up. _Shut_! _Up_! I almost couldn't stop myself from covering my ears and running away from him. Why the hell did he think I wanted to hear any of this?

"How long we will have to be apart." He finally said, I swallowed the unbelievable urge to punch him in the face. I mean, now that I could hit him and it would do some real damage, I had to hold it all back.

"I thought you said it didn't matter." That was my stupid line of defence. A dumb little seven words that were more like a peep than an actual like, sound.

Everything felt stupid in those four teeny seconds it took him to respond. I wanted to change back into my junky home clothes. I wanted to get off this bed. I didn't want to be anywhere near him. It all felt so like...pointless and retarded now.

For a split second he looked extremely irritated. "It doesn't. You know that, just the thought of not being able to have this, is..._obscure_ for me." Hristea stretched out one of his big arms to wrap around me. I growled, shifting uncomfortably and slapping his hands away.

I felt like the whiny little kid I hated to see in the malls back home. I mean, if I ever had a kid that screamed and whimpered and writhed around, then embarrassed me by doing that, I'd spank the freakin' brains outa that child, ya know.

But I just couldn't help it. I just couldn't help anything, and suddenly all that fussing those kids do made perfect sense. Everything sucks. That's it isn't it? You hit that moment of awesomeness and never expect the huge ass cliff just beyond it. I should've expected it right? Well I bloody well didn't!

"Don't touch me." I wriggled, cutting him off from everything. Hristea glared at me, green eyes flaring as he snarled at me not hiding his fangs. The arm I pushed away turned to steel, he made a fist clenching his jaw up and hissing through his teeth, like some scary feral animal.

I snorted, jerking my chin up at him. "Do it." He wouldn't, even if he wanted to he wouldn't – no _couldn't_. My stomach got all knotted. I hadn't felt straight up rage in a while, it felt good in that kind of disturbing way.

Jerkily, like the robot he could be sometimes, Hristea got off the bed and crossed the room to put his entire arm through the wall. I know, that should've like, freaked me out and stuff but it just didn't. It just seemed so awkwardly normal. Hristea pulled out, bringing a bunch of dust and rubble with him.

He sucked in a deep breath, blowing it all out a second later. Hristea came back towards me, he seemed bigger – like, _puffier_ – it kinda freaked me out a bit. "If you were anyone else-" He half-shouted, cutting himself off before it got any worse.

I wanted to challenge him. I just wanted to leave him here indescribably like, furious and then I wanted him to sit in it until it frigging drowned him. Opening my thoughts back to him, I let everything I was thinking. I All I wanted was for him to feel bad.

So I wasn't expecting him to kiss me like he did. It actually _hurt_.

My face scrunched as I dug my stubby black-purple nails, into the skin I could reach around the low collar of the snug, teal t-shirt he was wearing. Hristea's huge, coarse hands bit into my ribs through my dress, the feeling made it hard to breathe.

I had to turn my head in this cramping way to get away from his kiss. Hristea transferred all that bruising talent to my neck, but before I could tell him to stop he was already biting.

Hristea groaned, not in the way I'm guessing any girl would want to hear. He yanked away just as fast as he had sunk in, but he ended with an echoing, "_Damn it_!" He just looked so frigging mad, I couldn't help but laugh. My skin tickled where I knew it was healing and, I rolled my head on my shoulders to get all the kinks out.

"You totally had that coming." I shrugged, totally satisfied as he touched his bloodied mouth. Hristea glared at me – well, more at my throat – but the sheer frustration coming off of him just made me laugh harder.

He licked his lips, the awful burns there coming together quick time. "Dummy," I actually giggled, honestly giggled like a school girl. Hristea's nails cut into the soft skin over my ribs, for once I was actually concerned about my outfit and what damage he was doing to it.

Shaking my head I felt my nose wrinkle, "Why do you like doing that? I mean...what's that saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I'm a fucking moron?" I smirked, Hristea's lips fidgeted.

He nodded, "Something like that." Hristea's emotions burst again, why was it so hard for him to just pick one damned feeling at a time? Oh, no, he's gatta go through about twenty trillion different stages, before he found one that made sense to him. "That and, the things that hurt are the most memorable, are they not?"

I clenched my teeth. "I'm not gonna say bye."

Hristea grinned, "You'll never have to."

* * *

Hristea watched as Sawyer glanced around, her thoughts seeking his as she eyed every suspicious looking person in the airport. He sat in the shadows, away from the light of the building, away from the very light she was exuding.

Sawyer looked every bit like her Father, even the way they strode around the tight space of the airport was similar. He had promised to be here, to see her before she left him again, but now that he had arrived he couldn't bring himself to go inside.

His body, finally relaxed and comfortable in the form he so frequently took, ached to be closer to her. It was taxing, removing all contact they had, something that took the patience Hristea already did not have.

A white ghost of a cloud appeared when he exhaled. The air tasted of a coming rain, he wanted refuge from that irritating sound, knowing he would not have one. Sawyer's long hair, almost at her waist, poured down her back as she searched the airport. Her thoughts and emotions became more persistent, placing a niggling pressure on the delicate wall he had concentrated so hard to build between them.

She turned slightly on her heel, snowy white skin appearing warm and human beneath the ugly fluorescent lighting. She pressed her lips together, gazing irately at her Father who ushered her around the building toward their station.

Hristea padded forward, into the dim light of a parking lot lamp. This place stunk of gasoline, perspiration, blood and various perfumes and colognes. It wasn't difficult to pick up on Sawyer's scent in the mix, it had become something so distinct to him now.

He inhaled and closed his eyes. He tasted the almost silken, soapy fragrance of her skin, the smell of her hair. A whimper formed in the back of his inhuman throat, his paws flexing on the asphalt. Hristea opened his eyes, to see her pivot one last time on her toes like the tiny dancer she was. Sawyer peered in his direction, he knew she could not see him standing outside the airport, although he almost wanted her to.

God, she was gorgeous.

Hristea waited until the large bird that was her plane was well into flight before he charged into the trees again. It felt spectacular to be on four legs again...

* * *

I slept for most of the plane ride, or well, kinda faked so I wouldn't have to talk to Dad and answer his questions. But it was like, a frigging twenty day plane ride – omigod! If I can walk after this it'll be a miracle, I'm gonna be the queen of jetlag. Kill me now.

When I was awake I watched stupid plane movies and ate plane goodies. It was good frigging times.

"Did you have fun?" I could see the humour on Dad's face, knowing he wouldn't expect me to say yes. I shook my head, holding my mouth firmly together as I looked up at him.

"To be blunt, I'm actually going to murder you when we get home and like, feed you to Ms. Hopkins golden retriever." I was only half-joking when I said this to him.

Dad chuckled, putting a warm arm around me. "You couldn't do that, nobody would feed you." He smirked, tilting his head back in his chair like the annoying blue seat was comfortable.

That was actually true. I couldn't rely on Mom to do just about anything for me.

Dad closed his eyes while I pressed my face into the tiny square window. I stared down at the bright, fluffy cotton candy clouds below the plane and clenched my teeth. They looked so warm and puffy and like..._happy_ it made me want to upchuck.

"Hey, Dad?" I talked to the window, glaring at the colourful clouds and wishing they'd like, go away. My Dad mumbled something I didn't understand but I didn't let it stop me. "Who's um, Sawyer..." Damn, what was her name? I flicked through my head quickly, it was something with a T wasn't it? "Sawyer Talbot!" I didn't mean to sound as excited as I did when I remembered the name.

The person behind me grunted out a noisy "Shh!" I held my breath so I wouldn't whirl around and knock em' out – we're going to America, it's a free god damned country! I'll be as loud as I bloody well want!

Dad jumped up in his seat a little, his arm around me getting all stiff when I pivoted to face him. "How do you know about that?" He cocked an eyebrow at me. His hazel eyes reminded me so much of Uncle Nick when he was trying to be angry.

I shrugged. Rule number one: You don't sell out your partners. I lied easily, it was one of my talents, I was probably the best liar known to like, man. "I dunno, you said something about her before everybody dropped us off at the airport."

The airport. I didn't want to think much about that, it pissed me off too much. Hristea promised to be there. He _promised_. Ha, well, that says it all doesn't it? He made a promise, how the hell could I think he would follow through with it?

Dad pursed his lips in thought, thinking about all that we'd talked about in the airport. None of it had been about some Talbot chick. Actually, it had been pretty pleasant since he'd found out about my "ink job", I mean, it was weird fighting with Dad the way we did. His face had gone all purple when Kristine jumped in to defend me.

My story was that I made a fake ID, lied about my age and got a tattoo, and I planned to run with that as fast and as far as I could. Dad was frigging furious, he didn't talk to me for the entire day until we'd reached the airport.

"Sawyer Talbot was a um, good friend of mine through high school." He smiled faintly, Dad was a phenomenal liar and all, but seriously? I'm way the hell better.

I snorted, "You mean a good girlfriend of yours through high school?" Dad made a face that was a cross between a grimace and embarrassment. "So good you named me after her?"

He was angry all of a sudden. "We're not talking about this. Listen to your iPod." Dad waved a hand at me, leaning back in his seat again and closing his eyes.

That irritated me, how he thought he could just shut me down like that. It doesn't work that way! "You never tell me anything." I hissed, watching him open his eyes to glower sharply at me. "But for some reason Kristine thinks I'm just like you."

Dad grunted, his forehead bunching up, his eyes narrowing. "Kristine is right, but my Father didn't care. _I_ care." He matched my tone, but lowered his voice so the people around us couldn't hear as well.

I rolled my eyes, leaning over the stiff armrest between us and snarling, "Yeah? Well did your Father lock you up in an _asylum_? I don't frigging think so!" People were starting to stare and Dad nodded apologetically at them.

He jabbed a finger at me, "That'll be all Sawyer, I'm not going to discuss this with you any further." Dad crossed his arms over his chest facing straight ahead, holding his lips in a firm line.

"Oh, really? Is that what you think?" I whispered at first, building into a shout. "I think you have it backwards there, _I'm_ not discussing this with _you_!" People were complaining now, calling one of the obnoxious stewardesses.

Dad rolled his eyes the way I do. "Oh grow up!" He said, not having the same snappiness as before but the look on his face was enough.

Clenching my teeth I stood up in my little crevice, snatching my carry-on bag and climbed over his legs. "Ugh, you're such a jerk! I_ hate _you!" I growled through my teeth, seeing the surprise slam down on his face. Stomping down the isle, I passed all the whiny people before bumping into the stewardess.

Her blue uniform was stupid and ugly. "Please, miss you need to take your seat it isn't safe-" I cut her off.

"Eat me!" I muscled by her up to another row of seats before slumping into an empty row and leaning on the window. I put my headphones in, tuning out all the voices and sounds, closed my eyes and muffled a scream.

Being home was great. When I got off the plane, snapped up my luggage and stomped down into the waiting area without Dad, I found Harlow. She stood beside her mom, her hair in this big dark poof around her head. Harlow looked exactly like her mom without all the waist long braids and the 6"1 height.

Harlow was the third oldest with two elder brothers and seven younger siblings. She shrieked when she saw me, and then everyone else in the building did too. I mean this is the States you just don't do that kind of crap in an _airport_.

She jumped on me while Harlow's mother, Michelle, hushed the baby in her arms. "Omigod Sawyer!" She howled, coiling her legs around my waist and smothering me with her arms. Harlow smelt like her house, which was always clean, and food was always cooking. "I missed you _so_ much!"

I laughed into her shoulder, Harlow sliding down to hold me at arm's length. "No seriously, I have had no life in the past six months." She put on this mock face of horror and then giggled. "Hey, where's your Dad?"

Clenching my teeth I just shrugged my shoulders, leaning over to pick up the bags I'd dropped. "I have so much to tell you." I grinned, the two of us heading over to where her mother was.

"Good to see you home safe and sound, baby." Michelle smiled, her heavy Trinidadian accent ever present when she spoke. It really did feel like home.

Michelle made us wait until Dad came out to join us too. We didn't make any contact what so ever. Michelle rocked the baby in her arms, little Mahayla, Harlow's youngest sister. I told Harlow about Gavril, Stellar and Kellen while we walked outside to the parking lot.

It didn't bother me that Mom hadn't shown up to see me. Not even a little bit, that was just typical of her anyways.

I ditched Dad with all my bags, running across the lot with Harlow to climb into her mom's red minivan. He didn't protest. Michelle asked me about the weather in Transylvania and jokingly quizzed me on vampires. The drive was long and quiet because the baby was in the van with us, but I was so frigging relieved to be heading to Harlow's house.

In the time when we weren't talking, I felt like...I dunno, like only half of me was here in the van. Which was, ya know, in a sense true right? It was normal for me to feel all..._incomplete_ right?

It was like I could still feel Hristea there, obviously, I mean we were kinda attached in a weird way. He just seemed super far away from me, and he was but like, it felt like I was trying to send messages in a bottle across an ocean.

When we reached Harlow's house, all the lights were on and that was normal. It was 9:30pm here, and I wasn't surprised walking in to find Joseph, Harlow's dad, rushing around trying to put a million kids to bed. When Michelle walked in though, everybody quieted down and I thought that was kinda funny.

"So," Harlow started when we were locked away in the room she shared with two of her sisters, Tatiana and Eva. "You talked about the weather, your hot cousins, the school, the bitches at the school, your new _tattoo_ – but no boys?"

Pressing my lips together I sat down on the bunk bed she shared with Eva and sighed. "So Rob told you about me and Salem?" I mumbled, annoyed by the sound of his name. Harlow nodded and snorted her disapproval. "But um, yeah...there's a guy." I smiled.

Harlow squealed, kicking aside a pile of clothes and walking over to her mirror, touching the tight curls of her hair. "Details woman, details!" He demanded, her blue eyes all pumped up waiting for me to go on.

I didn't know where to start. Obviously I couldn't tell her anything about vampires and angels and things like that. But it was hard not to, I mean, Harlow was the only person I ever liked, talked to really – about anything.

"He's um, older than me-" I winced at Harlow's wide eyes "-way the hell older than me I mean. And we kinda met through a friend of my cousin's, she's kinda crazy. He's like awesomeness when he gets his hands on a piano. But, uh, well, he's got green eyes – like you've never seen green eyes like these. His smile is crazy hot and um, he's really, really like, buff." I laughed not looking at Harlow when I talked about Hristea.

Harlow grunted, "Um, hello, does _he_ have a name? How old is he? Does he have an accent? Better yet, does he have brothers?" Harlow teased but I saw all the other questions she had for me lining up right behind those ones.

She had a boyfriend that went to the arts school across town, he was tall and smart and played guitar and wrote her poems like, every other day. His name's Mateo, he moved her from Brazil just last year. I think their siblings have like, a karate class together or something and that's how they hooked up. Harlow's like crazy about this dude, he's alright I guess, but definitely not the kinda dude that could handle a person like me.

I grinned into the off-white of Harlow's carpet, gazing up to watch her brush her untameable hair into a ponytail. "Yeah, his name's Hristea," I said cocking an eyebrow at her reflection when she gawked into the mirror.

"Well that's a mouthful." Harlow winked, "Don't forget my other questions girl, you don't get off that easy." I shook my head at her wild expression.

"Yeah, he's kinda lived in Transylvania for like, ever so he's got this super heavy accent like you wouldn't believe. And yes, he's got a twin brother-" I laughed when Harlow gasped "-but believe me they're both kind of...out of control, I mean way the hell out of control. Even for me, our egos like, collide every five seconds."

Harlow set her hairbrush down, pacing over to sit on Tatiana's bed opposite me. The sparkly pink bedding wrinkling as she plopped down into it. Harlow narrowed her eyes at me, "Sounds like your kinda guy." She smirked, "But you missed one honey: how old is he?"

I bit my lip. "Kinda old enough for it to be a little bit illegal, but a bit." I murmured, Harlow burst out laughing, it was a sound I really missed a lot.

"I'm serious Sawyer, how old is he? Fifteen?" Harlow asked between bubbly chuckles. I shook my head. "Sixteen?" I snorted and Harlow's soft blue eyes expanded. "Seventeen?" I shook my head again, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. "He's eighteen isn't he? The boy is a rapist!"

I couldn't help but laugh. Yeah, I could work with eighteen, it was close enough to twenty right. 'Cause it's not like I can tell Harlow just how frigging old Hristea really is.

She waggled her finger at me, "Naughty, naughty." Harlow lowered her voice in a really bad attempt to sound like my Father. We both laughed at that.

Me and Harlow passed out around 4:00 in the morning, long after everybody else fell asleep. I just wasn't tired but I couldn't explain to her why.

It was good to be home, really home. The suckish thing was, I had two empty months of summer ahead of me, and nothing to think about but how sorry I was for myself. Everybody else welcomed the idea of getting off school while I stalked it with fucking bows and arrows.

I saw Hristea in my sleep, but it vague and unclear like it had been when I'd first seen him in a dream. It was like he was right there, just an inch outa my reach. Do you have any idea how pissed off that can make a person.

Me and Dad didn't talk for the first few weeks I was home. I guessed he was waiting for me to say sorry or something. Yeah, like hell that was gonna happen. Apologizing is a sign of weakness, ya know. And I never talked to Mom so that was nothing new. We finally talked, me and Dad, when I was getting ready for bed. He told me Sawyer Talbot was the first girl he ever really like, _loved_. He wanted to marry her like, they even got tatoos of each other's names. And then when they graduated she was accepted by a univeristy in Seattle. That was the last time he ever saw her. And that was his idea of an apology.

Robert planned this massive trip to the beach. This meant I was gonna have to buy some stupid bathing suit, just so I could sit on the beach and roast my skin off. The week before we went Michelle took Harlow, me and her thirteen-year-old sister Jocelyn to an outlet mall downtown to shop.

We went around for what seemed like hours. I fucking hate shopping. If I had everything my way, I'd be a damn nudist. Michelle and I sat on a couch outside the change rooms while Jocelyn and Harlow tried on swim suits.

They both tried on about twelve before settling on the first one they put on. Jocelyn's was this cool kind of purple, that was a full piece and hugged her thin figure. Harlow's was leopard print and strapless that had a wannabe version of the Dolce & Gabbana symbol on the butt. I thought they both looked nice, or whatever.

When it was my turn I tried on three bikinis that Harlow thought would look good on me. They were nice and all, but clearly meant for someone who wasn't me. I picked out a green one that wasn't exactly like Hristea's eyes – not even close – but green enough that it like, instantly made me think of him.

It was a strapless two piece that had a twist in the front of the top, while the bottoms were held together by two elastic-like bands on either side of my hips. Yeah, this would seriously get under Dad's skin. I didn't come out of the change room to show everybody 'cause Michelle would probably make me pick a different one if I did.

All Harlow could talk about for the remaining six days was how excited she was to show Mateo her bathing suit. I smiled and nodded like any other good friend would and ignored the urge to punch her face in.

The days went by like this: wake up, pretend to take medicine I didn't need, eat brunch, watch TV, binge on snacks until dinner, talk on the phone with Harlow, eat dinner, pretend to go to bed. Really, I waited for everyone else to fall asleep before I went flying. I went as far as my wings could take me, then spent the rest of the night wherever I felt like spending it.

I spent the night at Harlow's the day before the beach, then woke up to her blow drying her hair and her siblings bombing around the house. We ate quickly, packed a cooler of food and sat in the back seat of the van while Rob picked up his friends. He didn't trust me being anywhere near his convertible anymore.

Everything that could have been good about today changed when we pulled up Salem's driveway. Clenching my teeth and sinking my nails into the seat I glanced in the rear-view mirror at a sheepish Robert.

Salem climbed in, turning around to say something to us when we came face to face. He jerked back so fast I couldn't hold in the smirk, Harlow giggled a bit while Rob ignored all three of us.

"How's your face?" I snickered darkly, Salem glared at me, twisting in his seat so he could get closer to me. I leaned away from him, staring into eyes I didn't like, examining piercings that I thought were ugly, smelling cologne that made me gag. He was inadequate.

"You know that dude sucker-punched me, I could've taken him." Salem hissed, swinging his head to get the hair outa his face. I laughed good and hard.

Salem fight Hristea? Like, Hristea would blow on him and that'd be it. "Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?" I asked, tucking hairs behind my ears. Salem sneered and faced away from me.

Harlow high-fived me, and slouched back against her backrest. But I couldn't stop it, the annoyance I mean, just Salem's presence in the van tipped me over the edge a bit.

And then we picked up Victoria.

As if that was frigging bad enough, Mateo got in the back between Harlow and I and I almost lost it. Like, if anyone could make me feel like a third wheel it was Mateo. Just the way he looked at me when I talked to Harlow made me feel awkward, like I shouldn't be doing in when he was around.

So I just crossed my arms and sunk into the seat, waiting for it all to just _stop_.

When we reached the beach, I was surprised to find barely any locals there since it was so damned hot out today. The sun felt good. Then again, I guess it would considering I'd been missing it for the past six months. By the time all Rob's friends got to us, there were about twenty people in total, quickly becoming twenty-five.

I watched Harlow and Mateo splash around in the water, clenching my teeth until it hurt to move my jaw. Sitting up off my towel, I pulled my shirt up over my head, then wiggled outa my shorts. There was the sudden gasp of breath and I smirked, looking at the brands all over my arms, scattered up my side.

Well, if I have to go through hell, might as well make an impact, right?

The day was long and the water was frigging terrifying. So freaky to me I felt my wings shiver _inside_ of me. Almost instinctively I felt them press against my skin, wanting the out I couldn't give them here, so that they could wrap around me and protect me.

I hate water. Just seeing it come up on shore made me wheeze.

As the sun went down and I nursed my tan, and everyone around me got drunk, the couples started coming out. I pretty much only hung out with Harlow once before she was off, strolling down the beach hand-in-hand with Mateo. It made me gag.

I couldn't be around them all, everybody macking, everybody curling up together. Not to mention Salem and Victoria were trying really hard to piss me off. Sick of it, I paced off to the pier, glancing around and sitting down. I loved and hated being alone. Loved it because no one would bother me, hated it because I could think coherently.

The wood below me was warm, holding every bit of sun in. It took me a good twenty minutes to crawl even an inch closer to the edge. My body went into a frenzy, shaking and throbbing, before I knew what the hell was happening I was hyperventilating.

"Victoria stop!"

Harlow?

Just as I got to my feet and turned around Victoria was shoving me backwards. I screamed in the way I had the first time I was strapped into The Bucket. The water crashed against my back, the breath I had ripping from my lips and I plummeted into the void. There was an unclear laugh. I watched the bubbles from my lips float to the shaking light above me, as I fell into the murky, icy black...

Arms were around me, and I shrieked, kicking my feet up, scratching whatever I could reach. My ears were ringing, my lungs were stinging. "Sawyer! Sawyer, honey it's okay – it's _okay_! I'm here!"

I opened my eyes to find a bright white room, the sudden light made my eye roll back and my head spun. Dad clutched me to him, sitting full on my hospital bed while I sobbed into his work clothes.

The white room smelled like cheap air freshener and disinfectants. It was such a clean scent it really like, hurt my nose.

"I'm so sorry." I knew it was Harlow but her voice seemed small and useless next to the shock my whole being continued to go through. "I tried to stop her."

Dad laid me back on the bed, brushing his fingers through my knotted hair. I didn't know the person that came out of him when he said, "Who did this?" It was a snarl and had I not been crying I would have looked for Hristea.

Harlow stammered like she did when she was afraid. "V-V-Victoria Saunder-ers." I turned my head in the direction I heard her voice. She was still wet, in her bathing suit and shuddering.

I glanced up at Dad when I felt him climbing off the bed. He hissed through his teeth, "Jordan." The person who possessed my Father's body stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard diagrams fell off the shelves.

Harlow raced to my bed. "Omigod Sawyer, Victoria's Dad is here visiting some old lady – c'mon!" She grabbed my hand hoisting me up and helping me gently out of the bed, Harlow lead me slowly, into the hall where someone started screeching.

"...she can't fucking swim...Sawyer's petrified of water...I'll fucking tear your head off..." Someone was yelling and they were royally pissed.

Jordan Saunders, Victoria's father fell onto the white tiles, looking like he'd been trying to run away. He spat out a mess of blood, the patients, nurses and candy stripers backed into the walls frantically, some swearing or yelping.

My Dad whipped around the hall corner, his hair a mess, his hands in bloodied fists. I'd never seen him like this before and it actually scared me. He snatched Jordan Saunders off the floor, flipping him over to punch him clean in the face like...like he'd done it a bunch of times before.

"Nathan I'm sorry!" Jordan whimpered, rolling himself over and crawling anxiously away again. "I'll talk to Vikki – she can't help herself-" Jordan coughed out a silver tooth and a nasty trail of blood hung from his lip "-she's jealous!"

Dad snorted, leaning over to grab Jordan's collar, instead of hitting him again though he roared in his face. "Jealous? _Jealous_! That's my baby out there dumbass – she could have drowned!" Just as Dad brought his arm back again to male nurses caught him, hauling him back and away from Mr. Saunders.

"Nathan!" A man shouted, I knew him. He had grey hair and was balding. Dr. O'Brian, he was the one that suggested that I go see Dr. Dawn at Black Wood, Dr. O'Brian was also Dad's boss. "Everyone calm down and return to your stations – Mr. Saunders I am so very sorry."

Dad clenched his jaw so the muscles started to get all crazy, he ripped his arms from the male nurses hands, panting heavily. It was weird to see how everybody tried to chill out and get everything back to normal. There was that awkward silence that's so loud it makes your head hurt.

Dr. O'Brian helped Mr. Saunders to his feet, then asked a nurse to examine his injuries and to find a janitor to clean up the mess. Then he turned to my Dad and sighed through his teeth. "I understand why you're upset, Nathan, but-" Dad didn't let him finish.

"No you don't!" Dad snapped, his eyes narrowed to the point I could barely see the colour of them. Dr. O'Brian exhaled sharply as he shook his head, murmuring something I couldn't hear where Harlow and I were standing.

Dr. O'Brian took a few steps back. "I think you need to take the next few days off." He muttered, hands in the air when my Dad snorted a harsh laugh.

Once Dr. O'Brian went to help the nurse and Dr. Saunders Dad strode slowly towards me. "C'mere sweetie," Was all he said before picking me up and walking me and Harlow outside to the car.

Yeah, gatta love the summer huh?

**_

* * *

_**

**__**

~ Four Years Later ~

* * *

Sawyer sat on the plane, thinking how insane of her it was to skip out on the surprise party her best friend had spent the past three months attempting to hide from her. Harlow would forgive her.

Nathan, her Father had given her eight hundred dollars to spend, it was a little ostentatious, she had to admit. Though, thinking about it now, it was so convenient. 400 for the College Fund jar she kept having to break open, and 400 towards the plane ticket she'd been asking for.

She'd spent a day at home with her Dad, went out for dinner and ate chocolate cake until she could have been sick. She promised only to stay a year, and with Kellen and Gavril sharing an apartment she had a place to stay for a while. Though that was an excuse and nowhere near the place she planned to be living.

Analeigh had insisted on organizing a birthday party for her the day she found out Sawyer would be coming back. And sure, all that jazz was nice, but none of it was the real reason for her return. At least now it would be rational for her to go back to her Father and explain she was falling for someone and it would be legal.

It took ages for the plane to land, and of course all her bags had to be the last off the carousel. Sawyer walked out into the familiar, cramped lobby and sighed. "Raining." She nodded sarcastically, "Of course it's fucking raining."

She felt it then. The sense that made her toes curl in her flip-flops, made every fine hair on her body stand on end. Her breath seemed to cease in her throat, making her frantic for more air. The sudden pound of comingling thoughts, the race of thousands emotions in an instant, the _completion_ she felt at last that made it so much easier to think and speak.

All the while Hristea stood outside the glass lobby doors, watching her reaction to his presence. Four years had made her even more stunning, four unbearably long years. He recalled the day she'd brought him in from the light that so pained him, drew him from the release he had desired to replace it with a new one.

She had aged in the simplest of ways. Her height, the curve of her lips, the length of her hair, the roundness of her shoulders. Sawyer was breathtaking. He stared at the marks he could see around the t-shirt and jeans she wore, the brand that meant she was his.

Their thoughts became one fluent current, and he revelled in the feel of her emotions entwining with his.

He had wondered, if things would change once she returned home, back to her human life. If whatever nonsense she filled his head with suddenly slipped away. But it hadn't, she was here, and that was enough proof.

Hristea pressed his hand on the thin glass door, shifting into the body that truly belonged to him. He had aged, as did Dorian and to Emilia's distaste she followed suit. They did not age as humans did, he could not surpass the age of his creator, and their Father wore the mask of a thirty-three-year-old. That was where his maturing would cease entirely.

He had outgrown the clothes he'd worn in the appearance of twenty, to Angelica's dismay. Hristea's face had not matured in a remarkable way, nor had his siblings, though the image of a twenty-two-year-old seemed to demand lengthier hair as well. He had not grown it to the extent of Dorian's it was simply not cropped in the way it had been before.

He came through the doors, head carried low. Hristea ignored the appreciative glances human females presented him, if anything at all it was their blood that tempted him most. His fangs pricked his tongue slightly, and he swallowed avidly, before being struck by Sawyer's eyes.

Hristea paused, restraining the unnecessarily sensual groan that taunted his lips. He felt the race of his heart, always such a rapid, ferocious beat slow to fall into step with hers. Her scent was the same soapy, warmth it had been when she left, the fragrance of her shampoo was all that was different, lavender now.

The force of her gaze was nothing compared to the impact her blood had on him. Hristea clung to the dwindling strands of control he had, remembering that that delicious taste had also torn the flesh full from his mouth and tongue.

He stood there for far too long, unable to retract the fangs that were stabbing into the silky tissue of his mouth. Sawyer glared at him, and for a quarter of a second he could not grasp how something so cruel and vulgar could possibly be an angel.

Then she dropped her bags and without the slightest hesitation charged him. Hristea's body reacted to the abruptness of the situation and he growled when she leapt up on him. The heat, like the ever burning sun, came off her skin in waves and made his entire being shiver. Sawyer knotted her legs around his hips, her arms around his shoulders. He actually stumbled back from the collision.

Hristea held her there, unable believe how incredible it felt to be doing such a minuscule thing. Sawyer tugged his collar to the side and bit his shoulder suddenly. Hristea hissed enjoying the sensation though his instincts made him wild, she was far too close to breaking his skin.

"Where were you? Don't think I forgot – you totally broke your promise!" She spoke against his ear, he felt the outrage emitting off of her, although her voice was far from anything angry.

Hristea sighed, hiding his face in the burning silk of her skin and raked his teeth over her Engraving. Sawyer yanked unkindly at his hair, and Hristea was ecstatic that he'd grown it.

When he set her down again, he realized she had not grown as much as he had thought. She still remained small to him, the top of Sawyer's head only grazing the top of his shoulder. Hristea still had a head and a few inches on her.

"I was here." He explained, pacing around her to collect his bags and shy away from the glances of onlookers. He did not want a scene not now, not when everything was finally coming full circle. Hristea smiled down at Sawyer's baffled expression. He memorized the scrunch of her nose, the tightening of her jaw, the press of her lips. "Just not in a form you would have thought to seek."

Sawyer rolled her eyes, sliding her fingers between his. Hristea had gotten colder, just his touch seemed to make her shudder. His hand crushed hers, she had genuinely missed this feeling.

Sawyer pressed her face into the stone groove of his bicep, her hair tickling his skin. "Hey, I want the words." She said, once they'd stepped outside, into the rain making it more of a demand than a statement.

Hristea blinked at her, holding jingly keys in her face before dropping them into her palm. She followed him, startled to find the bright yellow Porsche he had driven four years ago. Though now it was soggy with rain, Sawyer couldn't care less, whipping around to the driver's side.

He loved how animated her face was. Hristea found himself fascinated merely by her reactions to certain events. Sawyer groaned and shook her head, her t-shirt becoming clinger and uncomfortable the longer she stood in the downpour. All the while Hristea looked fantastic.

"No. I want the words. All three of them." She said, her teeth chattering faintly. Hristea was irritated then amused, striding around the length of the car in an instant.

He ran his hand through the soaked snarls of her hair, holding her jaw between his large fingers. Hristea considered her a moment, pondered the meaning behind what she desired. "I love you." He muttered, finally.

Sawyer smirked. "I know!" Her voice was cheery, triumphant and she pushed him aside to climb into the car. Hristea grinned, drawing back his fangs as he strode around the front of the Porsche to join her in the passenger seat.

She didn't have to respond when he already knew the way she felt for him was immeasurable. He watched as she drove, twisted his fingers in her hair and bit into the soft skin of her throat.

Sawyer slumped in the leather seat. His hand fell over hers on the steering wheel to keep the vehicle straight, he tore back quickly, furious that her blood wounded him, wanting more because it did so.

Hristea watched the blood that had burnt him, instantaneously heal the crescent bite he had left on her neck. "I love you," He said again. This time, she answered.

* * *

Okay don't hate me! I know it was a little fast and I'm sorry :( I seriously put a lot of thought into this one so I'm sorry if that kinda killed the passion I usually have in my writing. Oh and uhhh...this is the last chapter to THIS story. I was thinking about doing another story from Dorian's POV but that's just cuz I'm really stuck to these characters, I don't want to give them up, so if you think I'm gunna be going overkill and just dragging it out let me know.

~Selene


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